Seventh Piece Of Me
by Blood.Stained.Fingers
Summary: AU – "Are you there seventh piece?" he asked softly, cajolingly in parceltongue.Harry screamed in agony as fire coursed through his head, Voldemort ran a finger down his scar."Yes, you are" He purred, before letting the boy drop heavily to the ground...
1. Seventh Piece Found

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Seventh Piece Of Me**

Prologue

There was a war around eighteen years ago, a war of the wizards. It had been carefully disguised from us Muggles. Poorly disguised from the muggles – dust under a rug, a bad clean up, they messed with our minds, removing the evidence. They called themselves 'The Order of the Phoenix' and the Ministry of Magic, they burnt out the insides of our minds, they crippled us of defending ourselves. They locked us inside, without a window, without a light. They forgot who we were – who we are! We may be muggles – but we have conquered more than they ever have. We have never needed their magic!

We, the muggles, banded together, no longer did race matter nor nationality, previous feuds were put behind us and suddenly these _wizards_ were against the world, but then again I am getting ahead of myself, not many of our kind knew about these creatures yet.

This war between their kind escalated – and the 'light' asked for our help, in which the government then sent out our troops to help them despite the fact we couldn't defend ourselves against their magic. By this point the war had reached unpredictable heights, no longer was their world... their society... no their cult hidden, it was caught on a camera and in less than an hour the world had watched it on _youtube_. It became a hunting field, muggle shopping centres, children's parks and homes. Those that called themselves 'dark' proved their dominance, showing their willingness to cut down anyone who was not in their ideal perception of the world. In less than 2 months our muggle troops had been eliminated and the leader of the light Albus Dumbledore fell, a sickly green light struck him in the chest and he crumpled like a rag doll.

Voldemort had won. Muggles managed to film it all live – and the most haunting thing happened at that moment, he crowed with victory, a maddening grating scream of joy, before his crimson eyes fixed upon the camera. The Dark Lord himself, as he was proclaimed, was every bit as evil as they described him to be, they said he was immortal and eternally youthful. His ebony hair fell in dark silky waves, his face was perfect, set like a fallen angel, and he smiled a sickly smile with that perfect mouth and stunningly white teeth. There was the same green light, and then the camera fell from its stand tumbling to the ground and rolling several times before settling in the long grass next to the camera man's head and we saw his eyes wide with fright and empty of life.

Collectively the whole world screamed in fear, and we scattered, we ran trampling on the less able and started to hide, we all knew there was _nothing_ that could even attempt to protect us. Our homes were raided, and the people – children, babies and elderly even they were slaughtered by his hand. With the few links left to the world we watched as he destroyed us all, how he let the wizard children slaughter us too, then he found the problem in his plan, a large flaw.

He suppressed the muggles, used them as targets for his anger, until he realised he couldn't get rid of them all. He started to capture them – he used them for cleaners, put them in wizard brothels and also used them as target practice. Soon though, he established a system where the mudbloods lived in cages, where the muggles lived in cages, he would use them as pawns as he moved across the Atlantic chess board. Many didn't have training but they would take the lethal curses in the superior wizard's place. The muggles and mudbloods were bound with a black magical snake wrapped tightly around their left forearm. It remained peaceful unless the person wearing it tried to actively fight against any bearer of the dark mark or even if they dared the Dark Lord himself. Only then would it tighten to discourage the action and if that didn't work it would pierce the flesh with it fangs and inject poison into the blood stream. A long painful death, befitting of those willing to harm their superiors, the Dark Lord had all but purred as he watched the first die, blood trickling out their eyes, nose and mouth. They bucked and gurgled under the affects of the poison, before slowly dying as their insides were liquefied.

Muggle qualifications meant nothing in this new world and we were dying slowly and nothing could stop our slow disintegration, but then again there was a reason why us homo-sapiens had survived longer than all others. Muggle vigilante groups fought back and as their last act of kindness to us who were dying every day, guns were made legal by the falling government, but we had to make them – every piece of metal we could find went into producing guns and bullets to fire them. For some time we had light wizard help, they would magic us guns, but even the plentiful resistance from the magical world that was soon crushed too and even light wizards betrayed their cause and joined the dark.

It became every muggle for himself, and if you fell no one would pick you up, no one remembered how to function in groups anymore, but there was the rare case people found each other.

That is how I met them – Lily and Harry Potter, being only thirteen at the time; I had held a sharp, pure silver knife to the young boy's throat- couldn't be too risky now that the Dark Lord would unleash the werewolves. I had only been young at the time myself, but he was around five and I thirteen, unlucky age. My hair hung in limp greasy strands, and my clothes were dirty and half shredded. His mother, looked at me with fear in her eyes, large green eyes focussed on the trembling boy in my arms. I felt a twang of pity pull at my heart, but I ruthlessly squashed it, turning my grimace turn into a snarl of sorts. I had recently lost my Mother and younger sister to _them_ and my emotions stopped me from saving them – I wouldn't let it happen again.

"You got any food?" I demanded gruffly – my throat sore from my angry screaming and the lack of use it had had in the past few weeks.

She shook her head slightly "Please... please give me back Harry. Please!" She had cried desperately, kneeling on the ground, clutching her hands together desperately, begging me to give her back her child.

"You got anything?" I asked, pressing the blade closer to the child's throat. He whimpered, I loosened my hold on him slightly.

"No! I swear!" She sobbed, her large stunning eyes filling with tears. "Please don't hurt my baby!"

I choked on my retort, and despite my toughened mentality to emotions, I felt the tears run down my face, and I let go the blade still clutched tightly in my hand I withdrew. I watched her as she hugged him fiercely, and cupped his face asking him if he was alright, and looking him up and down. I couldn't bare the similar scene of my Mother and sister any longer.

"Sorry" I muttered and turned and ran. Hunger was messing with my mental stability, I told myself.

Some people believe in fate – I never used too, but I ran into them again a few weeks later....

Chapter 1

10 years later, present day -

Another raid had been planned, another move in the muggle resistance to the wizard dominance. There was a small wizard safe house that sat near the outskirts of town, who or what type of wizards inside was unknown. Muggle Vigilante group 05 had gathered in a small damp cellar, and they would attack regardless, long gone was the caring part of them who would have spared the weak and innocent. They were that kind of people – and they had to be eliminated!

The room stunk of mould and body odour fermented the air making the weaker stomached people leave to evacuate their churning stomachs. Bodies were packed tightly in the compact space. Men, women and young teens were all there, staring at the front of the room where their self appointed leader was. She looked tired, but there was a fierce scowl set deeply in her face, her hair was ratty and cut jaggedly, to be frank she looked a mess. Then again she was the best person for the job, she had strategy and power. She was known a Thorn to most in the room, her actual name was Rose, she had given herself the name, she had chuckled saying any man worth his salt would figure out the correlation between Rose and Thorn if it was to come up in conversation somehow.

Said leader of the operations was sitting at her desk at the front of the room, her desk in fact was large partially green wet box, and she was perched on a wooden crate. She sat ramrod straight as she bellowed out facts about their suppression aggressively, winding up every person in the room each using their weakness against them. She twisted it beyond recognition and made every man woman and young adult froth at the mouth in their rage. Some stroked the muzzle of their guns, whilst other drew their knives, so far gone they were in their madness and rage. She was a good leader although her point of view blinded her of other conclusions, she saw the wizards in hiding as an ambush, they were waiting for them to let their guard down. They would find them and torture and kill them with their wands and destroy their resistance. There were others of a different view – they saw it as some of the wizards were being hunted like they were – they could have magical help! Their leader had squashed that idea brutally, one had told her that she was a liar and as corrupt at the Snake Lord, for that she had killed him. She had no remorse, and if she ever had a heart it was blacked like soot and like stone, but she was a good leader.

"HARRY!" Her harsh voiced yelled angrily, cutting her speech of mid-rant. Her bark was like a knife to a young man stared dazedly into space, fixated on a spot of mildew with was growing with spidery fingers across the wall. He turned to her sharply, jerking in shock as called for his attention. The whole room stilled, each person turning to look at him.

"Yes Thorn?" He asked softly, as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Did you get all of that?" She had stood up and walked up to him, towering over his hunched form as he balanced on an upturned bucket. Her cold blue eyes regarded him, emotionless and chilling as ice itself and her hands placed upon her hips, her long fingers on her right hand drumming against her side. He sighed wearily, rubbing a filthy hand across his forehead and frowned at her "Yes." He finally said, licking his dry lips as they were chapped and pale, almost as much as his skin was.

She looked at him hard for a moment, dropping into a crouch to be level with him, before smiling and nodding. "Are you alright? Do you need some water?" She asked in a softer voice, she gestured sharply with her left hand that had a dagger clutched in it to a man that held a flask. He shuffled forward – desperate to please and yet desperate not to share the hard to come by water. Odd man Peter Pettigrew he was, Rose looked at him carefully scrutinising him. He was hiding something – she just knew it. He hesitantly offered it towards her, she took it rather softly, but her grip of the flask was tight, her skin taunt over the shiny ivory like bone that was her knuckles. She unscrewed the cap, keeping her eyes on the stout man, and held it out to Harry.

He took a minuscule sip of the much craved for liquid, although his body screamed for more, he handed back and nodded his thanks to the man who had given it. He saw Rose watch him through narrowed eyes, as he shuffled backwards. She turned back to him, her face considerably calmer.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Rose smiled, her face was soft and kind, but the eyes still remained as unfeeling as ever, maybe she wished to feel something but couldn't either way, her positive emotions were dead buried deeply like her Mother and sister and as deep seeded as her hate for wizards, apart from Harry and his mother. She sprung gracefully to her feet and paced around the room, judging her faithful followers – her fellow victims of the wizard war, she smiled at the darkness and pain in each of their eyes. Watching it turn to anger, there was a reason why muggles were always top dog. Her boots landed heavily with each step ringing out in the silence, each step a step closer towards their liberation.

"Meet back here tomorrow – my friends. Tomorrow will be another step in our movement back to power." She purred, her almost guttural voice now silky smooth "Harry, wait behind." She added as an afterthought as she saw him leap from his crouched position on the ground towards the large metal door. His shoulders slumped, but he stopped and moved back till his spine touched the wall letting the large congregation of people try to fight their way out of the small door first.

Once the room was empty, she turned to him, her right foot placed on her seat and she slid her dagger in to her boot next to the other three.

"Rose" He sighed, exasperated. "What is this about?" He scrubbed his forehead angrily revealing a lightning bolt shaped scar. She scowled at her name used in an unsecure environment.

"Your Mother is asking for you, she is getting worse" She frowned slightly, swallowing heavily "Harry. Uh...Oh God!" She gripped fistfuls of her hair, her eyes creasing up in obvious emotional pain, but they remained dry. "Harry, I don't think she will make it."

"She will make it." He murmured, his head hanging down, his long unkempt hair covering his face.

"Harry - "

"I said that she WILL make it!" He shouted, angrily, scowling, his emerald eyes blazing through the thick paned grubby glasses.

"Alright" She stepped back frowning slightly, she gestured with her hands in a calming motion "Alright – let's go." Rose nodded to herself, as she pulled her dirty chestnut brown hair up into a pony tail and picked up her rucksack which was hidden under the crate she had been sitting on. "If we are quick we will miss the dementers." She strode to the door and walked into the cold summer night. Harry followed after her, shutting the door behind them. He shivered, his skin instantly being covered goose-bumps.

"They're coming, they will be here soon."

Rose made a non- communal grunt, and turned and started to jog slightly towards the town centre. She weaved in and out of the shadows until she reach the large shopping centres doors. Harry followed quickly, not quite as lightly as she, but still moving gracefully and quietly.

"Why are we going this way? There are the surpluses here, you can't trust them" He whispered harshly, glaring around at the tramp like people that were scattered around. Their bodies lay limply and their rising and falling chests erratic from the dementor's chill.

"They are long gone, and even if they weren't they aren't in any shape to take to fully grown adults who are trained to kill." Rose walked through the place as though she owned it, her head held high and she didn't even glance at the people. Harry made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat, as Rose jumped over a large pile of junk that had been pilfered out of stores.

"I don't approve of killing Rose, you know that." He commented bitterly, as his pitying glance caught the eyes of another man, who was dead, his hand inches away from a bottle of water.

He stopped, fighting the urge to go over to the body and set him straight, though the body most likely had all sorts of diseases on it. Suddenly Rose was next to him, she picked up the bottle of water, and checked the seal, and then broke it off. "Drink" She commanded, placing the bottle in his hand.

"I ... can't...this was his" He handed the bottle back to her.

"Harry, you will drink this or so help me..." She left the threat hanging in the air, and held the bottle out "At least for your Mother's sake, if not your own."

He drunk it, he drained the whole bottle dry, hating Rose for being so right, hated himself for letting her play his weakness as well as she played the fiddle. She patted his arm and started to drag him off, "Come on – we do not have time."

"Rose – why don't we help them?" He suddenly asked, jogging along to keep up with her long strides.

"They can't help themselves, more mouths to feed, we just can't, and they aren't a threat. Your kind on the other hand... are."

"My kind?" He hissed venomously

"Well, you're Mothers a mudblood, so is hunted as much as we are and you as her son are under our protection too." She turned the corner sharply approaching the exit. Harry just scowled at her back, the bitterness of not fitting in anywhere throbbing in his chest.

She pushed on the glass doors, making them swing open "Look for a car, quickly Harry, I can feel them now"

"So can I." He grumbled as he tried car doors, trying every car that hadn't been raided or smashed in to pieces. "Here" He called softly, Rose ran quickly over "I'll drive."

"No you bloody won't" She chuckled, sliding in through the broken in window. After a couple of minutes hotwiring the car, they were moving and fast. Harry, hung onto the edge of his seat, with pure terror etched into his face as Rose drove without care. She sped through the deserted city, as the sun set, leaving the sky an bloody red, which faded into pink and purple.

They drove, hard and fast into the country, tackling the large ditches in the roads ignoring the gravel flicking and scratching the paintwork. Harry has turned a faint shade of green, his grip on the soft padded chair crippling, Rose on the other hand had pressed her lips into a hard line, to fight the rocking motion of the car making the minimal liquid in her stomach slosh around. She suddenly hit the brakes, and climbed out, walking into a dark field, where half the crop was burned away, where the ground squelched with the blood of their brothers in arms. She swallowed slowly several time and breathed deeply trying to sooth the swirling acid in her stomach.

Harry rolled his eyes at her dramatic manner, slowly walking behind her as his stomach too settled after the rocky ride, glancing around every so often as he felt like he was being watched. He could feel the hairs raise on his arms and the back of his neck. He hurried to catch up with Rose.

"Do you feel that?" He breathed, looking down at her.

"Of course" She hummed, "Don't worry, just animals" She burped lightly, she clamped a hand over her mouth in her shock. She laughed under her breath, and then cursed loudly as she froze. "They have the lights on!" She shrieked in rage and astonishment, but Harry wasn't most scared at that, it was the lining of fear that was wrapping her words that caused him to start to sprint down the hill towards the brightly lit up cottage, which was normally hidden in the darkness.

He could hear Rose behind him, cursing under her breath at their stupidity and praying to whoever would listen that they were okay. As they got closer they realised that the front door was wide open, Harry spluttered and gasped, and backed away, _ambush_ he thought, until he walked into the tip of a wand. He froze instantly stiffening, thoughts pausing as his _fight or flight_ instinct triggered. As he was about to turn around a leather glad arm wrapped around his torso.

"Be a good boy now" The voice cooed, it was an arrogant drawl of a man. "Did you get the other one?" He asked in a cold tone, to prove his station. _Slightly insecure? _Harry thought trying to analyse the situation like Rose would have done.

"Yes Sir" The other person's voice trembled, _weak?_ There was a groan from that person then, as Rose twisted and kneed him in his groin. She went to hit him, but she was hit with a spell, she froze and toppled over being hit with a leg locker jinx. She was grabbed roughly by the wrists, by the fuming wizard who had his 'nads' crushed.

"Are you ready now?" Malfoy asked coldly, irritated that he had to work with incompetent fool such as this.

"Yes sir!" Came the prompt reply.

Harry was prodded in the back sharply; he walked forward into the house. He could feel a slight prickling in his scar; it throbbed unpleasantly as he drew closer to the living room. Their footsteps rang loudly through the long corridor. The door swung open of its own accord, creaking loudly – it seemed so much louder in the silent repressive atmosphere that had ensnared the place.

The room was lit with floating candles, and all of the furniture had been removed, instead the room was filled with people – all glad in black. Some of them wore masks, whilst others had a black snake entwined around their arms. Many held wands lightly in their hands, and others held knives and guns. They were all facing the centre of the room, Rose and Harry both glanced up.

There in the middle of the room was the Dark Lord sitting in a throne, raised several feet of the ground, made of golden snakes with green velvet draped across the padding in the back. He unlike many 'kings' slouched in his chair, perfectly at ease, he had even had placed one leg across the arm of chair. A large black snake had wrapped itself around the throne and had its head resting upon his stomach, it was hissing at him, and he was nodding along distractedly, as though he was only half listening. He turned his head lazily towards the four people entering. He shushed the snake with a wave of his hand – she huffed angrily and turned her head slithering of his lap.

He held a crystal cut glass in his hand and he swirled the fire whiskey around in it several times, smiling faintly, no he was smirking largely. He removed his foot form he arm of his throne, sitting up, leaning forward eagerly. He looked no different from eighteen years ago, he looked sinfully gorgeous, but the stench of evil rolled from him, smothering you in his presence, enticing you and scaring you, the perfect demon.

Harry's strangled cry rang out as he clasped his forehead in agony, the man restraining him letting him fall, his bones shook with the impact of hitting the floor, but what he saw on there made him sob, his Mother laid across the floor, her red hair spread across the ground in waves of fire, her eyes – his eyes, were wide open with shock and completely lifeless. He screamed out in horror and terror. The Dark Lord stretched and shifted his feet slightly on his mudblood foot rest.

Rose gurgled in her shock, but no other sound emitted from her throat. Harry's capturer grimaced at the sight of what he had been handling. Lucius Malfoy prided himself on being well dressed, and looked on in disgust at the filthy creature he had to restrain. He brushed his robes of slightly, keeping his dignity and Malfoy pride printed across his face as he did so, before sweeping into an elegant bow.

"My Lord" He said softly, respect and deference dripping from each word.

Voldemort nodded once in greeting and Lucius melted into the crowd of people, although remaining near the front. The half-blood restraining Rose, bound the girl's feet and hands, before too dropping into a deep bow, it was almost twice as low, and not nearly half as elegant. The Dark Lord looked at him coolly and gestured impatiently at him to move away from the two prisoners. The man scurried in to the sea of black cloaks, but this man moved to the back, trying to blend in and remain unnoticed.

"Ahh at last – my informant did say I could find Lily Potter here, but her son too? – well, such a bargain and at least now, dirty blood you may have but the Potter line can once again flourish." He purred. His voice was a smooth, yet dangerous, like a honey covered knife. It ran like a set of fingers down your back, pleasant enough but a slight grazing of nails reminding you of the danger.

Suddenly he leaned closer studying the boy twisting in front of him, he tilted his head curiously, his silk like hair shimmering in the candle light. He smiled suddenly, he stroked his chin with his abnormally long fingers. "_I wonder_" He whispered softly in parseltongue.

"_What Master?_" Nagini hissed, intrigued nudging his ear, her tongue flickering in the air.

"_I will discuss this with you later._" He murmured, stroking her head in his ponderings.

"Who is your informant?" Rose shrieked, struggling against the bonds holding her. Voldemort glared at her in annoyance, casually pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"Crucio" He said, as though he was commenting on the weather. She screamed and cried with the agony of the torture curse upon her person. As quickly as it had been on her it was gone and she shook with the aftermath. "You...Bastard!" She gasped out, as she tried to pull herself back on her knees. A smaller figure stepped out of formation and stood in front of her swaying body.

"Be quiet you filthy muggle!" It was a shrill tone and it grated on Rose's ears. There was sharp slap and a cry of shock.

"Let her go" Voldemort said calmly, amusement thinly veiled. He chuckled throatily "Shall I call him here?" He asked Rose. She looked up at him through half lidded eyes, her left cheek baring a bright red handprint. She tilted precariously, before managing to right herself.

She nodded, glancing at Harry, refusing to comfort him and yet desperate to help in, he lay on the floor holding his head and shaking with the rolls of pain that hit him constantly.

"Wormtail, come forward." Voldemort turned as a little stout man came to the front, he smiled at Rose in a patronising way, and in his hand he held a flask of water.

Rose started in dumbstruck horror for a few seconds at the man she had seen not even two hours ago, before screaming in anger and fury – at herself – she bloody knew there was something odd about him. All affects from the cruciatus curse were gone as her animalistic rage consumed her.

"YOU LITTLE...RAT!!!!" She screeched, throwing her head back, her eyes smouldering in her molten like anger.

"I believe it was you _Thorn_, who didn't realise there was a wizard in your midst." He smiled, baring his yellow, rat like teeth.

She scowled at his insinuation that she couldn't tell magical folk from normal people. She hadn't known that he was magical, but she would be _damned_ if she let him know that!

"You're too magically weak for it even to turn up on the lowest radar!" She hissed, spit flying from her mouth as she forced the words out.

Wormtail looked down at her crossly "That's no way to talk to your superiors, girl!" He pulled out his wand. "_Crucio_"

The spell hit her, she cried out slightly and buckled under the curse, but soon the noise stooped and she looked up at him from her foetal position and chuckled through her split lips "I've felt w..w...orse!" She laughed, her eyes screwed up in the pain.

She lay on her side, and reached down to her boot quickly, and grabbed a dagger from her boot and flicked it sharply. There was gargle and a thud as Wormtail fell backwards onto the hard wood flooring with a small dagger embedded in his stomach.

At first Voldemort looked alarmed, but then he watched Wormtail writher dispassionately. With a wave of his wand the knife was in his hand and the wound healed.

"Beaten by a muggle, Wormtail. Tsk, tsk I didn't believe you could sink any lower and yet you amaze me again and again." A chuckle ran through the crowd, as Wormtail whimpered pathetically.

He studied the weapon in his hand, his perfect eyebrows raising as he noticed that is was pure silver. Rose's teeth snapped together as Wormtail got back to his feet, she growled at him, her face reddening as blood pooled her checks at her humiliation, she slammed her bound fists upon the floor.

"Muggle" The Dark Lord looked at her, she lacked appropriate training, but that could be fixed, but first a test...

The girl turned towards him, her head held up defiantly, but her eyes only focussed on his chin. He smirked at that. "I believe for his betrayal, he owes you somewhat." He threw down the knife, it slid sharply into the floor, cutting the wood like butter, landing next to her bound hands.

"Finite Incantatem" She felt her legs regain their separate use. "He is yours to kill if you wish..."

"PLESE MASTER NO!" Peter squealed pathetically.

"Rose NO!" Harry cried out from his sprawled out pose on the floor, but Rose was too far gone – she was completely feral. She spliced the ropes on her wrists, pulling the knife free once again. She had cut the ropes around her ankles in the blink of an eye and had charged toward Wormtail.

Blood splattered the walls, as she covered him in deep cuts with her collection of cutlery. He screamed in agony, and she was painted in his blood, and then through the hate filled void she was contained in she heard his next words.

"...in exchange for your life services."

She paused mid-hack, she heard Wormtail's left hand hit the floor, she turned to him completely frozen in horror. She could feel a cold chill run up her left arm, and she looked at it in a detached manner. The black snake curled around her arm and settled snugly around it.

The knives dropped with a clatter as she started hyperventilating, and tried to pry the horrid creature of her with shaking hands, as they were blood sodden and just slipped of the scaled body.

Voldemort rolled his eyes "Stupefy" He sighed, exasperated at her antics, the young woman fell unconscious to the ground.

"As reward for your services Wormtail " A silver hand replaced Peter's now missing one, and his cuts healed over, not even a scar remained.

"Thank you, Master" He whispered reverently, and breathlessly, marvelling at his new hand.

The Dark Lord nodded graciously, smiling, not only had he re-enforced Wormtail's loyalty, he also had a way to snuff out any thoughts of betrayal as the hand would turn on him as soon as he did. He chuckled demonically.

He waved his hand, and several knifes flew from the girl's body, ripping sounds were heard as her clothes were almost completely removed as knife upon knife was piled up at the bottom of the Dark Lords throne. There were many different types of knifes, long ones, short ones, some stolen, some bought and even some handmade, and the occasional couple were magically made. Then there was the sound of tearing flesh as a knife was ripped out from under her arm, where she had surgically placed it that if she twisted her arm in such a manner it would sever one of main arteries and therefore would never be taken captive. He body was flipped over revealing a large rip in the underside of her arm. Voldemort healed it, with raised eyebrows, disgusted with himself for being slightly impressed with the muggle. This was something that Lily Potter had done, magically manipulating the blade so not to harm her until she so wished it. No more weapons were found then and most of the death eaters looked at the large stack of blades impressed, shocked that the muggle could carry such a large amount.

There was a large groan which drew the attention of the whole room, Harry was trembling with the onslaught of plain, trying to pull himself up of the floor and continually falling back down.

Voldemort rose like a snake of his throne and _glided _ across towards him, he didn't pause even as Harry's cries grew louder. He stopped next to him, and pushed him onto his back and leant over him, watching him like a serpent.

"_Are you there seventh piece_?" he asked softly, cajolingly in parceltongue. He lifted his hand making Harry rise in the air, twirling slowly until he was face to face with the Dark Lord, he grabbed his chin forcing the boy to look at him, his Mother's eyes looking at him in the same accusing manner as she did, his glasses having fallen off. Harry screamed in agony as fire coursed through his head, Voldemort ran a finger down the scar make Harry's eyes roll back in pain and his cries grew weaker as he tried to fall unconscious.

"_Yes, you are_" He purred, before letting the boy drop heavily to the ground, he waltzed back to his throne, placing himself back on the heavily padded seat. "_You have proved yourself once again Harry Potter._" He chuckled to himself.

Nagini, sensing her master's good mood and opportunity, slithered over to him "_Master_" She hissed enticingly, her forked tongue grazing his earlobe. "_Master, let me eat the body of the mudblood._" She wrapped herself around his torso, and leaning around towards his other ear, "_Please Master, she's __**fresh....**_" She nuzzled his cheek with her large head, her large yellow eyes half lidded, she butted him again gently with her head.

Harry, the terrible pain had now eased considerably in the light of the pain as _he_ ran his finger down his scar, heard Nagini's plea and with his last bout of energy and pain tolerance he yelled, not realising he spoke the language of the snakes. "_DON'T YOU BLOODY DARE!!!_" He lost consciousness after the outburst – energy spent.

Voldemort started in his internal debate to let Nagini eat the body; of course he would let his beloved familiar have her chosen dinner – but she was easy to tease, although the angry hissing words from his horcrux stopped all thoughts as though they had hit a barrier.

"A speaker" He looked at Harry appraisingly, demurely summoning back his glass, and running his little finger around the rim. He smirked looking at his new toy, and he stroked Nagini "_...This. Is. Just. Too. Good._" He drained the remainder of his fire whiskey. "_Enjoy your mudblood, Nagini._"

**A/N – Right, wow that was an awful lot of writing. The longest chapter I have ever written actually. Please review as I need to know what you think. Whether or not I continue this story is down to your reviews... so please? ****:~)**


	2. Seventh Piece Home

**A/N – I am so very sorry for the long wait for this – this chapter has been split into two as it was too long to go as one. I am just finishing the second half – which in my opinion is a lot more interesting than this half. Then again it would have been so long you would lose interest by the end of it.**

**I want to thank**_** everyone**_** who reviewed, altered or made this story a favourite – I cannot believe the response this story has got – I am so happy – thank you all so much!**

**Seventh Piece Home**

I remember when I was a child the last step to remove them – the last thing to do, the one thing to remove the horrendous stain of wizard kind on the planet forever. They were readying the nuclear weapons. The weapons of mass destruction were being readied to destroy us all. We would kill ourselves just to spite them; the world would end today at 0300 hours. The world would end in a few minutes of fiery agony as flesh would be burnt from bone and our eyes would melt from our skulls, and our brains would slip out of our ears and noses. Our lands would be scorched and peeled from the earth like burnt skin flakes, our homes would turn to dust in seconds and the life which made our planet unique, made it real, made it home would be torn from existence. 0200 hours was when it happened – when they arrived, when the plan failed, and that was it the forlorn hope was gone.

My mother and I had waited hugging with my sister - Marie between us, she slept peacefully, her dirty blonde hair hung in gentle ringlets, and there was a smile set into her lips – so unaffected by everything, so oblivious to it all – and I, to my disgust was jealous of her, but I knew what was going to happen – what was supposed to happen. For that I was grateful – I could look at the grass and appreciate the beauty of it – I could look at the sky and know that I saw it and it was the most amazing thing in the world. I had seen the sun rise and the sun set and I understood the sincere beauty of the world, I was not ignorant and for that I hadn't missed a thing. I looked at my Mum and she was gazing at me – her eyes watery "I love you, baby. You know that right?" She asked in a breathless whisper, her hand cupping my cheek "There was never a day I didn't – and I have never been so proud of you darling." She leant forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead "You are my little girl and you always will be – I love you so much, my bright intelligent girl." She sniffled loudly and brushed her hand under her eyes, the brown orbs wide and shiny, she was constricted with emotion. "Oh, baby girl I'm so sorry." She cried. I wish I could feel an emotion towards her, wish I could cry for her too, but I had become rather distanced from them in the aftermath of the war.

"Mum – you didn't think I ever forgot that did you" I questioned, my voice void of emotion, I looked down at my lap at the sister I had to share my mother with, and I almost wished she didn't exist – not to spare her the pain, but so I could have my Mum back – just for a while. How despicable I was – a selfish creature. Would my mother be proud of me knowing these were some of my last thoughts? No, she would be disappointed in me – she couldn't hate me, she loved me too much. The disappointment would be so much worse for it too.

"Why are we out in the open again?" My Mother asked again. She had never been the brightest of sparks. She had always been the type to have designer clothes and go get her nails done, just spending the day shopping for herself – and occasionally me and my sister. She never bothered with her studies or exams – and luckily she married richly due to her good looks – not that money mattered anymore.

"Um... when ... it happens, uh well it should be quicker. If we hid and managed to survive – we wouldn't have anything to eat, we would probably ... suffocate from the poisonous air, it's ... probably better like this." I garbled and then I shrugged "Why not? We can see the beauty of the cruel world one last time."

She blinked at me, staring at the girl she had once known so well. She knew my favourite colour, my favourite bedtime story, she knew I liked strawberries, but now she looked at me like she wasn't quite sure I was hers. Then again she knew better than any that the people you knew and loved changed in difficult circumstances. She used to be sweet, delicate and self-centred but now she had become hard, brittle and uncaring towards people – but not us, never us, but this harsh change of society had knocked her of kilter. I knew without a doubt that my Mother was insane – unstable at the best of times. Her reaction at this point only further proved my theory; she laughed loudly – hysterically, "Oh my smart beautiful girl!" She held her ribs and rocked back and forth and howled with laughter. Marie grimaced in her sleep but otherwise did not stir. She suddenly sobered "You have had to grow up so quickly, I wanted my baby girl forever." I smiled softly, although it looked as fake as it felt. Never is there a feeling that can compare to this – knowing that there is nothing left – nothing at all and the feeling of fear, knowing you can't stop your demise but most of all not wanting too.

I sat biting the inside if my cheek contemplating this fact, before something in the atmosphere _changed_, it was wrong, and it didn't belong. I could almost feel sound waves rolling through the air and colliding with me, this wasn't right – it wasn't time yet.

I stood in my bare feet, the grass tickling the undersides of my toes. There was definitely something in the air – my Mum was cradling Marie looked up at me in concern "Is it time?" She asked warily, I shook my head and turned it slowly, trying to sense where this feeling of _wrongness _that had pervaded the air was. Then there was a loud bang that rang through the air, I flinched, and put my arms over my head and hunched over, falling to the ground through instinct – nothing seemed different though. My nose was brushing the grass as I breathed slowly, my eyes held tightly shut, scrunched up – I didn't want to see havoc that it must have caused. I waited with baited breath for a few moments, before opening my eyes and slowing straightening up and looking around.

There was no mushroom cloud or anything just... nothing. Though there was something not right – just in existence. I cocked my head to the side, and I could feel it, something trembled in the ground, it vibrated through me and I squeaked in my shock. Then it stopped and it left an unnatural stillness in its wake.

Then there was another angry rumble that ricocheted through the ground, I wobbled and stumbled before falling over, the impact bumping my spine, I cursed, a particular nasty word for an 11 year old, might I add.

"What's happening" My Mother yelled, even though there was no need – I responded with the negative, just as confused and frightened as she was. I looked to the east and then I screamed – the Dark Mark was swimming in the air the green snake curving around twisting its head around looking for us – for the muggles. The large skull's empty eyes looked at us and the open mouth seemed to grin. We could see the death eater's and the Dark Lord's faces look down as well in that one mark.

It had failed – we had failed, how did it fail? The explosion must have been us – our resources were all gone. I felt selfish tears collect in my eyes, which fate was worse? I wish I knew. We were doomed – damned to be hunted down – we knew it and so did they, our imminent decay was upon us. And they all just smiled....

------

_Some people believe in fate – I never used too, but I ran into them again a few weeks later...._

The next time I met them I was in a less than satisfactory way. I had been nearly caught by muggle herders, these were simply Death Eaters that fancied a bit of sport. No longer did they wear masks, they proudly bore their faces to the world. This of course enabled us to make a most wanted list – their strengths and weaknesses, their names and most prominent features.

I knew the three in front of me – a man with long light blonde hair, and grey eyes – which when they set their sights on me sparked maliciously. His upturned pointed face bore a large smirk and blood dribbled down his hair and face. Lucius Malfoy.

The other was a woman, with a large mass of black shiny hair, and heavy lidded eyes, but they showed her true insanity within, her name struck fear in to even the fiercest muggle warrior- Bellatrix Lestrange. I gulped at the third figure .... Antonin Dolohov, and although he was not as well known as Lestrange, he was just as savage, his long, pale face twisted into a smile as he saw me – if there was one thing that this death eater enjoyed it was uneven numbers in his favour, and we had met before. He was the one who had killed my Mother and sister, and he had tortured them for ages with the Cruciatus Curse, until my sister's mind broke with the pain and my mother's with the distress of seeing her child suffer a fate worse than death. I gave him a scar for that – a large diagonal on his right cheek, where I stabbed a knife straight through it and took out two of his rotten teeth. He has a personal vendetta against me and I him.

Lestrange crowed in delight "Is the ickle poor muggle all alone?" She pouted, biting into her bottom lip, making her eyes flood with crocodile tears, but they were alight with vindictive pleasure. She giggled madly and came closer, her wand poised towards my heart. I focused on it, letting out a shaky breath.

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and my hands trembled from my lack of energy and water, but I braced myself and started to walk backwards, hoping to – if there was a God – that there was no other behind me.

"Awww, you're not leaving are you?" Lestrange asked, as they formed a triangle, she was in the lead with Malfoy on her right and Dolohov on her left. "Stay and play with us..." She whispered, she blinked her eyelids several times. In that one second, I turned and ran, being only thirteen or fourteen, I couldn't recall my birthday, but I did know my age round about. Anyway I was very light on my feet, and light boned – I was able to run fast and fortunately dodge spells. I could hear curses being fired and instinctively manoeuvred around them; many of them hit the ground very close to me, impacting the concrete and spraying up large chunks of rocks and dirt. The dust got in my eyes and blinded me but I didn't stop running, using all my senses to try and combat the superior force without my sight. I finally managed to open my eyes blinking enough to be able to see out lines, I could hear them a fair distance behind me – Lestrange and Dolohov dissolving into an argument about who threw what and such, their loud voices echoing and bouncing off the buildings. They had stopped hunting now, due to their petty disagreement – not that I was complaining.

I carried on running though, and kept on running until I was well into the countryside, running through the wheat which never got harvested, it being well over my head. I ran rubbing at my running eyes, tears streaking down them trying to remove the gritty substance. Of course due to this I could barely see my hand in front of my face when I managed to open my eyes for a split second. I couldn't stop, the fear drove me to move faster, paranoia taunting about the foes that I couldn't see. Then all of a sudden I wasn't running on anything, and in my shock I missed the next step I should have taken and tripped falling face first on to the prickly ground. The broken crop was jagged and it pierced my flesh, I could feel it splice my face and puncture the muscles in my arms. Then I was rolling, and rolling, I happened to be on a _very_ steep hill, and now I was picking up speed.

My eyes were still burning and clenched shut, now to fight my rising nausea too, but then there was an awful crack, I could feel my skin from the middle of my stomach to my spine tear, and then although I didn't feel it I heard my spin crack. There was a fiery spark that ran up my spine to the base of my skull. Then nothing, I couldn't feel anything below my waist, I carried on rolling, slower now, as the hill was evening out, before stopping completely on the reasonably flat ground. I tried to move my legs but couldn't. I swung my arm out in a vain attempt to grab something, and my hand landed in something cold with a splash. Water!

I swung myself over, pulling all my weight into it, and screaming with the agony that coursed through my upper half. I submerged my hand in the substance, and pulled it towards my mouth, I swilled it around, and it tasted fresh.

I grabbed two handfuls and poured them into my slightly open eyes, the cool liquid soothed my sore corneas and I could feel the grit run down my face. Though it did not help enough and I pushed my head under the water itself, opening them and letting the pool wash out the burning substance.

I pulled my head out, gasping loudly as water splashed around me, my hair streaked down my face and stuck there as I balanced on my trembling arms. I could see again that was something, I pushed with my minimal strength and flopped on to my back and lay panting on the ground. I glanced up at the hill and in the brightness of the light of the half moon I could see the streak of crimson blood that I had left as I skidded down the hill, the sight made my stomach roll continuously, I leaned over to the dry land as quickly as I could and emptied my stomach and I sobbed as I forced out the minimal food coated in the hydrochloric acid from my stomach. Tears coursed down my face, and I screamed in the all consuming agony that was my life, I had had enough and I had nothing left. A cold stone formed in my stomach – I felt so empty, so derelict of life and I wanted it to be over, I wanted to fall asleep and never wake again, but I knew I had to carry on. Now contrary to what people might think – this was not one of those I have to keep fighting to save this world for the next generation! No, for me it was always about proving to them I was better – humans were _built_ to survive and that us _muggles_ were superior. I was filled to the brim with hate for the wizards and everything I did – every time I hurt one or tried to kill one was spite for what they did to me. The fact they have all but killed me and tortured me for their own personal pleasure, and that I could die without taking most of them with me – without leaving another _muggle_ mark on the world made me insane with rage. This was for the better – then again most dictators said that too, didn't they? Well I am the first to admit that what I wanted wasn't right, but it wasn't any better than what they did to us.

I could feel myself trying to fall unconscious, but I forced myself to stay awake – knowing if I fell asleep I would never wake again. Then I did probably the most stupid and brilliant thing I have ever done - I screamed again in anguish, not that I was in pain, but it was torture not being able to feel my legs, not being able to move them, God it was suffocating! I yelled and yelled until my throat was shredded and the world was spinning from my blood loss – it's an odd feeling knowing you are going to die – detached but odd. It was a feeling I knew very well – we were well acquainted in this life with the feeling of death. It's cold clammy fingers around your throat, its nails puncher your lungs – but that could have been my ribs. I could feel everything slowing and I could hear my heart beating in my ears, like a timer counting down to the end. Suddenly I knew this time was really the end, no one could recover from these mortal wounds. I could vaguely hear someone or thing running towards me, and they called is a questioning tone, I groaned loudly – let them come – let them end this oddly numb agony I was in.

Then there was woman in front of me, she felt my neck and murmured things to me – I don't recall what she said but her voice was soft and in my lethargic state it sounded like my mother – that was comforting, I ironically felt safe. Though at the time I did not realise I was in the care of one of them – mudblood or not.

She made me drink some things – they didn't taste nice, but I was so delirious at the time I don't recall swallowing – I was told later by Lily she had to encourage me to swallow but rubbing my throat. Then I was in _real_ agony – whatever the potions were they burned me on the inside, I cried out and sobbed. At such a stage things such as hearing are possible, but are not really remembered in your conscious mind, I reckon Lily knew this too – devious cow, but I admire her for that. I was told then where Lily's cottage was hidden under the Fidelius Charm. I can't actually remember what it was now, but oddly enough I can still see it, as I said must be buried really deep inside my subconscious mind.

I woke up during the night, it must have been a few days later – I never cared to ask, to have myself in such a vulnerable state shook me to the core. Also to have accepted an unknowns help was stupid to an unknown extent, I now owed this person, to not too would to be disgraceful to myself. I was stirring on the edges of consciousness at this point in my contemplation, and I could feel a cool wet cloth wiping my forehead, I opened my eyes. I shut them again to the bright lights of the room – although they were already dim, I once again tried but at a more reasonable pace who should be sitting above me but the woman who's child I threatened and she was smiling calmly, I panicked, and my breath caught my throat, I knew her – and the way she looked at me she remembered me too. I opened my mouth in an attempt to defend myself – maybe to make her leave me be so I could figure out an escape.

"Hush – it's okay – I know you only wanted food. Do not worry." She whispered, as she stroked my hair back of my forehead. I looked at her warily, though no deception was upon her features, I knew from many experiences that something nice and sweet can be lethal.

"I..." I choked on my dry throat, Lily's eyes widened and she poured a glass of water, while I coughed, she quickly put the cup at my lips and I gulped down heavy mouthfuls. My fingers tried to shakily latch on to the glass, but Lily gently pushed them away, and removed the glass from my reach.

"No, you're too weak." She pushed my shoulders down, and _tucked_ me in. "You need rest, and a decent meal I would say too – your injuries were very severe, you are very lucky to be alive." Her voice held sympathy and disapproval.

"...But..." I rasped, she seemed to know exactly what was on my mind and she interrupted me.

"Quiet now" She said "Harry doesn't know it was you – and he won't until I see fit – you keep your silence – that's all I ask" She stood up, her voice firm – she felt my forehead with the back of her hand. She smiled faintly and nodded, before turning to leave seemingly satisfied with what she found.

"Thank you" I called after her – my voice sounding old and rough, she turned back, and smiled.

"No need for that" She said, and she turned off the lights, "Get some rest – you will feel better."

I nodded, already feeling my eyelids dropping – I shouldn't have felt so safe but I did and I went to sleep – as I said I don't believe in fate but it was certainly an odd coincidence or God is a bitch – I couldn't really give a toss, either way I wanted to hurt them. Badly.

Present Day – Dark Lord's fortress

Rose had known for some time that apparition was not pleasant, so did Harry, but if warned they both managed to pull through. Unfortunately they hadn't been this time as they were both unconscious. Harry was dead to the world in most aspects; even the horrid feeling of apparition could not rouse him from his state. Rose on the other hand had trained her body to the point of never being truly asleep or giving in to such weak dispositions, she was currently wide awake trapped in her flopping body. She was draped over someone's arm, and they jostled her as they walked. Everything was a blur, the sounds merged together and washed over her senses. She felt so _ill_, she felt so tired. It was then they apparated. It was so constricting to her already befuddled senses, and upon landing on the ground – albeit unsteady, this shaky footing from her carrier, was the last straw. He eyes snapped open and she vomited all over the bloke's shiny black boots. She then spat on top of it trying to clear the phlegm in her throat, and the vile taste from her mouth. The arm holding her dropped her, although physically weak, she landed on all fours before standing up. A few nervous titters were heard from the young death eaters as they gathered around to watch the inevitable confrontation.

Rose glared at the muggle who had been restraining her, she gaped in shock "Daniel!" She gasped "We presumed were you dead!" She exclaimed. He scowled – Rose and Daniel had never got on, Daniel was rather talentless – he was smart on paper, not anywhere else such as fighting, which is exactly what you needed to be in this world. Rose on the other hand – was a Jack of all trades and a master in them all too, but then again she wasn't perfect, she wouldn't think twice about killing someone and eating them if meat was needed, she would take the best for herself and she would steal. She was the only real constant in her life – so that's who she served.

Daniel now saw this as an opportunity, he felt that she should be put back in her place, she was below him – she was a woman and should be providing the next generation – not fighting and leading troops!

"You have just been sick on my shoes" He said softly, coldly and most of all very gently.

She looked at him in disbelief, and actually backed away slightly. "Look Daniel...I know we have had our differences, but-"

"Shut the fuck up" He snapped, his thick eyebrows furrowed together creating a giant strip of hair across his rapidly balding head. "_You_ have been _sick_ all over my shoes. I want you to lick it off." He stated smugly. There were many muggles gathered as well as the young pure-bloods. The muggles all gasped, most of them knew who both of them were, this was a long coming battle and now they both lived and worked in the same residence – this would set one in their place for the rest if their _lives_. The death eaters scattered like cockroaches as the Dark Lord walked through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea – he glared in annoyance at the two muggles, but did not intervene, for he too was interested how this might turn out. He watched them both as you might animals – trying to understand the foreign creatures' motives, their language – in this case their higher ache.

Rose's reasonably fair features had warped into something hideous, maybe it wasn't her expression, but her eyes they spat fury, they made her look like the devil himself would treat them kinder. She swaggered over to him and then looked him up and down in a blatant judging look, before sneering heavily and spitting a wad of frothy spit onto his boots.

His face registered his shock, as he looked in dismay at his boot now. Before he could even properly react, she had a fistful of his shirt, and she had pulled him down to her level. She breathed heavily in his face, her breath understandably repulsive. He turned rather green around the edges.

"Now listen here Daniel. You know I have always been charge – not _you_. Not just because of popular vote – but because I'm _better_ at leading than you." She growled in his face, her lip curling in his face. "I you ever try this or _anything_ like this again – I will _KILL_ you, and no one will stop me." She smirked cruelly at him. "Do you know why?" She asked, her hand trembling in her fatigue, he could stop her but his fear held him rigid "Because you're a worthless piece of shit!" She then pushed him over and he fell flat on his back in his shock, how she managed such a feat in her state was beyond many who watched the scene. She stood over him proudly, she knew she was a bully, but it is a dog eat world out there.

The Dark Lord rolled his eyes, nothing productive had come out of that – apart from a major change in the ranks of the muggles. He gestured to two mudbloods who were gawking at the spectacle, they straightened up immediately, bowed swiftly and one moved over to the muggle, grabbing her from behind pulling her arms to her sides and holding her flush against his chest.

The other revived Harry and restrained him as well, even though he didn't resist the hold and leaned into it. Rose glanced at him in concern, she snarled and wriggled in the hold she was captured in, trying to reach out to him as he groaned in pain, though she soon sagged in the man's hold breathing deeply, her head hung, her chin resting on the top of her sternum as she gave in to her exhaustion.

"Get him some pain relief potion from Severus. Oh, and a pepper up potion for them both – I'm not finished with either of them yet." The Dark Lord called softly, and after that he turned around and walked away, his robe flaring dramatically as all the un-occupied occupants of the room bowed low to his back until he was well out of sights.

Severus Snape had never been a friendly person, if fact he had never been a particularly friendly child only allowing a select few close to him. Even they had never really been true friends, so Severus had immersed himself in his studies, especially exploiting his own talent with potions. He experimented with dangerous potions, to the point of having to secretly nurse wounds from his foolhardy Gryffindor tendencies in the subject.

Although these experiments helped him then become the youngest potion master in recorded history, this fortunately or unfortunately as you looked at it caught the attention of the Dark Lord. Voldemort had not cared for his blood status when he was easily the best there was at potions. Now of course that Voldemort had won the war – Severus was no longer regarded a half blood, he was all but pure in the Dark Lord's eyes and that was undoubtedly good enough for the rest of the Death Eaters. Then again there was always the imminent threat that he could just poison their drinks with one of his own lethal concoctions. That had only happened once and the Dark Lord had found it endlessly amusing, and since no punishment had been forth coming, it was clear the Dark Lord either approved or had ordered it himself. From that day forth, people had parted for him in corridors, it was even more hilarious if he carried a potions vial in one hand – and could cause constant gossip if it happened to be empty.

He was drawn from his latest potion as he heard the door swing open and slam into the wall loudly, he rolled his eyes – didn't they realise that that could have caused a fatal mistake due to their bumbling. There was a lot of grunting and then a muttered "Merlin, she is heavy, imagine what she would have weighed without removing the weapons."

Severus coughed loudly, drawing their attention, there were two loud child like gasps and then two things hit the floor, one grunted whilst the other flopped, he even heard their head hit the floor. Another gasp of shock, Severus held up one finger as he took the potion of the small fire and placed it floating at one side, he inspected it for several seconds, before deciding it was precisely right.

The man turned around from where he had been leaning over a cauldron, he glanced at the two bedraggled messes in front of him, and his already sneering face, turned disgusted.

"And what, pray tell, is this?" He asked quietly as he stared at them, the two escorting them shuffled nervously at his tone of voice, _everyone_ knew _that_ tone of voice, it was almost as well known as the Dark Lord's, and depending on who you were Bellatrix Lestrange too.

They swallowed several times, one nervously licking his lips before speaking – he was looking down, his arms clasped behind his back, and unconsciously he scuffed his shoes together. Severus rolled his eyes – why did _he_ have to deal with this imcompetance?

"T..the Dark L...lord sent us!" He garbled, he looked up with wide eyed innocence. Severus rubbed his eyes with his long potion stained fingers, trying not to lose his temper with the fools.

"And what did he request?" He asked, irritation now seeping into his voice.

They gasped and bumbled, both exchanging alarmed looks – _did they have no composure?_ He wondered to himself – he was shook out of his review on them when a tired female voice spoke up "Two pepper-up potions and a pain reliever" She rasped, she was balancing on her knees and she was fighting with her eyelids as they tried to close.

"Indeed" He said silkily, his eyebrows rising "And for whom?"

"I would believe the pain reliever and one pepper up would be for my companion." She suggested.

"Yes, the other would be for you I presume muggle. It seems you are trying to defy gravity with your eyelids – a battle your losing I'm afraid to say" He commented dryly. Surprisingly she chuckled, her shoulders shaking with the almost silent laughter.

"If I could see you I would give you the finger" She said with mirth.

"How pleasant of you." He turned and rummaged around in his stores, pulling out the potions easily, hooking a vial each with his left hand fingers as he wrote in a log book of which had been dispensed.

"You know us muggles – such kind and polite people" She responded, squinting up at him, she might have looked angry if she hadn't got a large silly grin on her face.

The corners of his lips quirked, "Yes, muggle manners are very identifiable." He handed her the potion vial – she looked at it dubiously and _smelling_ it, before sighing explosively and downing the whole thing.

"You think we tamper with the potions?" he asked, as he handed the other two vials to one of the mudbloods who in turn bent down and poured them one by one down Harry's throat.

She sat up straighter, blinking several times and nodding sharply "What am I supposed to think?"

He chuckled, at least this one had humour. He looked at her companion and barely restrained himself from rearing back at who it was – James Potter, or at least his clone, but after drinking the potions the boys' eyes opened and Lily watched him tiredly, full of pain, anguish, loss and sorrow.

He sneered at the boy, he looked so much like Potter, but it really seemed as though Lily was in that body steering him. How it hurt to see her there in that body, reminding him, taunting him with Potter's face of whom he had lost.

"A Potter?" He spat with venom, his lip curling.

"An Evans" The girl injected, directing his attention upon her, she looked at him defensively, daring him to object.

Harry, mostly awake now, looked at her confusedly, but did not interrupt. Severus noted that his posture was that of Lily's not James's, the way he bit his lip in apprehension was also Lily's.

The girl also noticed the man observations, and spoke one more reassurance.

"Through and through" She said softly.

Severus said nothing, but regarded the boy once more – they knew _something_ about his and Lily's past that was obvious, but _how much?_ "We'll see" He replied, and gestured impatiently to their caretakers, who quickly grabbed them – ecstatic to be out of the snarky potion masters uncomfortable presence.

They were walked, held tightly against the two wizards' chest, one arm around their torsos and the other held a wand pointed at their throats. They came up to communal bathroom – one had muggles and mudbloods scrawled into the rotten wood and the next on the basic yet clean door was written half-bloods. Harry was pushed towards the half-blood bathroom whilst Rose was pushed into the splintering muggles door. She squawked in disgust "I'm not using that!" She said angrily, as she wiped her hand in her trousers and removed a couple of splinters.

"You'll use what your given, you stupid bitch! Be grateful we are even offering you the chance to wash! You stink like shit – like muggle scum!" The man spat, his face reddening, unknown was the fact that this _muggle_ had received more respect that he from THE Severus Snape.

"That's worse than I am – I will come out worse than I went in!"

"If she wants to use a clean bathroom she can." Harry intervened, scowling heavily, and stepping between Rose and the man. "I don't mind."

"SHUT UP YOU LIL' BRAT!!!" The man roared in his face, spittle flying out of his large mouth, and landing on Harry's face, a rather big splatter landing on his glasses. The man pulled out a wand and waved it around brandishing, Harry watched him critically as he held it the wrong way. He used it like one would hold a stick to a dog – from what he had learned from his mother, until dogs were once again wild, their owners abandoning them. He then pointed it at Harry and said gloatingly "I have magic!!"c

Harry just rolled his eyes "So do I" He replied dryly.

"So – you don't have a wand, and I am higher than you!"

"What are you?" Harry snapped, his scar was aching considerably and he rubbed it irritably, scowling at the man in front of him.

The man hesitated, and looked shiftily from side to side, before sniffing loudly and looking down his nose at Harry "Pureblood" He declared boldly.

Harry only quirked a brow, doing an unconscious impression of the Dark Lord. "Show me your left arm" He said

"I'm not showing it too _you_" He sneered, but the expression wavered slightly

"Why?" He snarled – quite confused at his own nasty behaviour, but he found he could barely restrain himself. He grabbed the man's arm rough and pulled it towards him, ripping the sleeve up, revealing a tightly wound snake around it.

"_Mudblood_" He hissed as he looked at the wand held in the man's fist.

"I don't have to take orders from you" The man spat, pointing the wand at Harry, right between his eyes.

"I am higher than you" He reached up and snatched the wand from the man's fingers, and twirled it around, before pointing at him. "No one would question me, you know?" He asked silkily.

"Now Harry, you're scaring the little Mudblood" The Dark Lord's hand closed over his, and pushed the wand down to the ground. Harry's scar spiked in pain and he visibly winced. Then it was as though a net curtain had been pulled off him, even though he had never noticed before hand, he now felt his head had become a lot clearer than before.

"You were influencing me .... somehow..." He started in surprise at the words coming out of his mouth.

"Indeed I was" Voldemort chuckled, "Come, we have much to discuss and I think you will be needing a stronger pain reliever." He took the wand from him and glared at the now quivering man, he looked at the wand and smirked, and snapped it clean in half "One of your low standing should not abuse such gifts" He taunted and wordlessly lit the wand, and dropped the still smoking ashes at the man's feet. He looked at the man disapprovingly, as though he genuinely cared.

Harry shuffled back in his fear that was subconscious as well as all present in his mind. His Mother had taken the time to tutor Rose and him, she taught them a lot. Rose after learning about the human mind thought humans to be nothing than cultured animals, Harry disagreed but then again Rose was very unforgiving – there was never a second chance with Rose. Though it was in that one moment that Harry understood Rose's view about humanity – he wanted to curl into a ball and hide – he was petrified beyond words and wanted to act like he had seen animals do. The power hit him like tidal waves and it was angry, seductive and _dark_ and what was the scariest part was that Harry was _tempted._ He could hear it calling him, pulling him in and he was frightened because he wanted to give in – he wanted that power.

Voldemort turned to him and he was grinning madly, looking delirious and windswept, the power was almost visible, the lights seemed to dim just in _his_ light.

The Dark Lord's magic coddled him, swamped him filled his senses with it until all he could see, feel, taste, hear and smell was it.

"Tempted Harry?" His voice asked, the grin was set in place and he cocked his head to the side, watching Harry like a predator watches its prey, a cat and a mouse and Harry knew which one he was.

Harry knew that the Dark Lord _knew_ he was tempted by it all.

"Amazing isn't it Harry?" He asked as he spread out his arms and inhaled deeply, whilst the mudblood cowered in the corner.

He waltzed over to Harry and pulled Harry out of the hunch he had formed unconsciously – defensive – against the magic and himself who wanted to reach out take it, he straightened out then and backed away from the Dark Lord. The man himself chuckled as he seemed to know _exactly_ what was going on in Harry's head.

He put a firm hand at the back of his neck and held it tight, Harry's shoulders tensed although he wasn't ticklish he wanted the hand off – no one wants the Dark Lord's hand around their neck – back or front.

"By the way – mudblood, if someone higher than you gives permission to a muggle to do something – you bow to their submission. Do you understand" The tone made it perfectly clear, that he had better understand. The man nodded furiously, Rose looked at him rather smug and as though she was not in the presence of the Dark Lord, pushed open the half-blood door and locked it behind her.

"When she is finished bring her to me and I want her unharmed and in the exact condition in which she arrived here – I hope I have made myself clear." He did not wait for conformation.

Voldemort steered him away, and into the dark corridor, which was only lit by torches set into the dark stone walls. Their progress seemed to slow for comfort and too quick for comfort as well, he felt the need to evacuate his bowels, he felt like throwing up and he felt like crying due to the sharp ache in his scar, it was constant and he could feel every inch in which the blasted thing was tattooed onto his forehead. He could feel it being carved again and again into the sensitive skin tissue. He wanted to sob and lash out at this man for killing his mother – for the pain he was putting him through, both emotional and physical – he wanted to scream. He wanted to stamp his feet – on top of Voldemort's feet he wanted to rip his hair out, any hair out – God he wanted to _kill_ someone.

He stopped suddenly – where had that thought come from – he didn't kill, he never had, never would, and it had never been an option – never been a thought in his mind to ever do something so unforgivable.

"Harry – keep on moving please." Voldemort chided gently, and pushed gently on his neck, but his nails dug into his spinal cord. Harry once again started to move – unfortunately this time nursing the thoughts of murder.

**A/N – I know this chapter is boring – but please review anyway? The pace should pick up slightly next chapter – and I don't know if you will be excited about this as I am – but Harry will be marked. :~D **

**Among other things Bella will be involved and acting insane as she really is so please stick with me – it will be out **_**very**_** soon. It should be next week as I only have to finalise and add a few bits so – fingers crossed.**

**Oh, and by the way – just a random thought for you – does anyone else think that **_**Lady Gaga – Bad Romance **_**suits Bella and Voldemort? Just the lines – I want your loving, I want your revenge. It just makes me think of her, seeing as she loves him and doesn't mind being crucioed for it. :L**

**Anyway, please review? I **_**live**_** for your opinions. **


	3. Seventh Piece Claimed

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter. **

**A/N – If there are any mistakes in this please let me – I have checked several times – but I wanted to get this out quickly. Review about my theory on how Harry defeated Voldemort as a baby in this chapter – is it realistic? Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time and all the story favourites and alerts!**

**Seventh Piece Claimed**

It was a while before they came to a holding room, and Voldemort sat Harry down in a rigid wooden chair, entwined with snakes, all poisonous and lethal. They wrapped themselves around him and the chairs, gripping him in an iron vice of skin.

"_Keep him here, and do not harm him._" Was all the Dark Lord said to them, giving one in particular a meaningful stare.

Harry glanced at the creature in alarm, the snake in which returned the look with something that could have been amusement.

"_This one smells different though, Master. We will not harm one of our own._" It said, whilst watching Harry curiously, its forked tongue flickering in the air, tasting Harry's scent.

Voldemort just grinned, and walked away, shutting the large pair of mahogany doors behind him quietly.

"_So, speaker, tell me about yourself_" The small snake asked, unravelling from where it held his bicep and curling contentedly in Harry's lap. It held its head up confidently and expectantly. Harry just stared at it stunned. "_Come on!_" The snake encouraged "_We could be here for hours yet – might as well get to know each other. I doubt he will kill a speaker... then again.... Well no use worrying about that now, is there? So, who is your favourite snake?_"

"_Uhh... I haven't had the _pleasure_ of talking to many snakes_" Harry replied, albeit uncertainly.

"_Oh_" It blinked, "_Then I can be your favourite snake!_" The little snake seemed positively giddy at the prospect of this notion, it flicked out its tail toward Harry as one would to shake another's hand. Harry bit the innards of his cheeks to try not to laugh.

"_It's rude not too return a greeting_" The snake said, and if Harry wasn't wrong there was a bit of an offended tone to it.

"_Sorry, my hands are tied_" Harry replied, chuckling slightly at the irony of this positively odd conversation.

"_I suppose so..._"

"_Doesn't... your master_" The word curdled like bad milk in his mouth "_pay much attention to you?_" Harry distracted the little creature from its displeased thoughts

"_He does, but he doesn't appreciate my humour, and I didn't tell you this but...._" The snake leaned toward his ear, so much like a human would to whisper a secret "_I think Nagini is..._" He looked to either side of Harry for a few moments, something he must have seen the slower minded Death Eaters do, before leaning back to his ear "..._jealous._"

There was then the most disturbing yet oddly enjoyable sound Harry had ever heard of snakes laughing, they were to the parcelmouth's ears roaring with laughter, screeching, chuckling and ironically _hissing_ – it was enthralling and exciting.

"_Don't let her here that! She will chase you until you shed your skin!_" One yelled loudly, as she shrieked with laughter, Harry realised he could tell the difference between the gender of the snakes, she sounded like she was Cockney, sounded a bit like a guy he had once met – he was from the East End, he was 'a right laugh' Rose said, he made her smile, she would often laugh until she cried, Harry had never understood his jokes, then again innuendo was a bit above his understanding at 11, at least to actually understand the concept of the joke.

The other snakes shifted with their laughter at the new joke, and the little snake seemed suitably cowed.

"_Young hatchling – you have spent too much time with the speaker and his... '_friends'." The eldest rasped, she the only one that did not laugh. She had her body wrapped around his legs and resting on his feet – Harry was actually afraid of telling her she was putting his feet to sleep. He wriggled his toes trying to get the blood circulating again. He looked down at the little one curled in his lap, he shifted slightly, grabbing its attention, he gestured up with his head, lifting his chin. The snake rose to face him, Harry leaned forward and whispered gently in his 'ear'b.

"_Don't worry, I believe you._"

The young one visibly brightened at that and sat down smugly, it was sweet how easily young beings were satisfied, but Harry's heart felt lighter knowing that he made the creature happier.

"_So_ _as I was saying..._"

"Oh dear God! Help me!" He thought.

----

As Voldemort entered his throne room, he exhaled largely relaxing, his shoulders slumped, and he rolled them several times releasing the tension that had set in from the long day. Nagini was curled up by the fire, she lifted her head tiredly. There was a large lump in the middle of her body and she seemed contented, after his followers had diced up the mudblood.

He quirked an eyebrow at his beloved familiar, she merely turned her head toward the fire and shut her eyes again.

He considered her for a moment – the only other living thing that shared a soul with, and now his Harry as well. He shrugged off his outer robe and draped it across the back of a large green armchair. He sat down on the floor next to her, resting his back on the bottom half of the chair, he removed his shoes slowly, in an act of something old and human like, he sighed wearily, rubbing his forehead as in a childish act he threw the leather shoes across the room scowling. There was a light hiss of mirth from Nagini, she regarded him with one large open eye. He stuck out his tongue at her – the only one he could ever consider somewhat of a friend, she had been with him when he was young, mothering him and he still felt incredibly childish around her when provoked. He had always been her master but there was always the reverence she held him in – unlike Bellatrix who was loyal to the point of bending backwards until she broke her back, Nagini always challenged him, she presented a dry humour that never failed to make him darkly amused. Also no one else could understand her jabs at his expense – that was for the better.

"_Master – what has you grinning so?_" Nagini drawled, watching him critically, her eyes sparkling.

"_Hmmm?_" He shook himself out of his thoughts "_Oh, nothing_" He dismissed

"_It's the boy is it not? And his little muggle friend._" She whispered, she shifted slightly facing him concerned.

"_...maybe_" He grudgingly admitted. "_Harry, but not the muggle... disgusting creature._" He slid down the sofa, his feet stretching to be closer to the fire.

He lay sprawled out on the floor by the fire, soaking in the warmth of the large flame, he let his loosely tied hair down.

"_You_" Nagini stated "_are becoming a slob, have you no manners?_" Nagini slapped the soles of his feet with her tail and he hissed at the stinging pain.

He pouted slightly, looking delectable and placed a hand over his heart. His sinfully long eye lashes fluttered "_You wound me Nagini_" he chided gently, amusement in his voice.

"_Maybe then you will learn_" She huffed.

He laughed loudly and outrageously, it was oddly musical but there was a serpent quality to it, and Nagini grimaced in digust, "_You expect people to follow you when you're like this? I knew splitting yourself so many times was lethal. I shouldn't have let you call yourself Lord Voldemort – Mort is a nice simple name for you when you like this!_" It lacked the venom it needed to be spiteful though.

He paused, a disarming smile on his face before laughing again, when he had given Nagini some of his soul, he had transferred all the remaining childish feelings he had to her – little as there were to begin with. This unfortunately meant that he was usually happy and 'care-free' around her due to _her _and the affection she had for him as well.

Just then, there was a knock at the door rapping several times – jittery, some nervous twit, Voldemort rose from the floor and snapped his fingers and the double doors swayed open dramatically as they did in the old muggle movies – absent of the creaks – Voldemort would not have _anything_ of his sounding old and worn out.

There was one of the mudbloods he had left the girl with, the fool dropped to his hands and knees face pressed against the floor – he was guilty of something – but what?

He heard her before he saw her, as she walked slowly into view, her boots landed heavily on the ground and he could hear the metal in them clunk as it struck the floor. The quivering thing on the floor let out a squeak as she paused next to him. There would be no point on asking her to bow – she would not bother – and a crucio would only make her close up and scramble her mind more. Stupid muggle.

She stood proudly in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and her chin jutting out arrogantly. Her washed hair hung in shiny drying ringlets and her clothes were now clean and repaired, seeing as they had been pretty much hanging off her before hand – even her boots were clean. He watched her as she poked at the man on the floor, he grinned – it was rather morbid as the boots were steel capped.

"Come in, my dear muggle – do have a seat" He made a show of conjuring a chair out of nothing, waving his wand with flourish.

She walked over slowly and leant on the back of the chair "I hope you will not find me rude if I do not."

There was a loud dismayed gasp from the pathetic lump on the floor, the two respective leaders of two species of human turned to face him both sneering.

"Get out!" Voldemort thundered, pushing his hand forward and the mudblood was thrown forcefully from the room, the doors slamming shut behind him and rattling with the force.

Rose merely rose her eyebrows.

"Now, _please_ take a seat, after all I have taken the time to conjure it for you." It was a sugar-coated demand.

"Well seeing as you have gone to so much trouble" She said, and slowly lowered herself into the chair, her hands wrapping around the arms on it, they remained bowed, ready to hurl herself out of it if she needed too.

"Calm yourself" He said turning his back to her as he leant over his desk, checking on the writing quill's progress.

He then turned to her, as she screamed, thick chains emerging from the floor, she tried to jump up, but the chairs hooked her back roughly, causing her to become winded. She gasped and wriggled at the chains became tighter, she whined loudly like a dog would as it held her down. _What a shining example of muggle kind_ he thought dryly as he watched her.

"Sorry my dear, but needs must." He said simply, she met his eyes defiantly, and then all he said was a simple word and she realised her mistake.

"Legilimens"

He entered her mind too easily, there was little resistance as she was a muggle, her mind hadn't been developed enough for protection. He didn't even need to say it, but he knew she had knowledge of spells – just to make her be a bit scared. He could feel the fear ripple through her mind, and something rattled in there. Something like an alarm, but for what?

Just thinking about the lacklustre resistance as he entered her mind, the answer why threw itself at him, she liked showing her emotions, it made her human. Obviously she did not view him as human. He stood in her mind like he would stand anywhere else – he was at home and relaxed and acted like he owned the place. He looked around slightly unnerved by the empty cavern, there was just blackness, with thoughts scattered spinning in whirl winds and flinging angry thoughts at him. Muggle or not, she had been trained in some kind of mind arts. The only realistic thing in her mind was the slight crunch under his feet as he walked. He sighed exasperatedly, it would be typical that she was difficult. He raised his wand and a shot a _Lumos_ upwards, it acted as a sun would, illuminating the great expanse of her mind. He looked around and smiled bemusedly, he was in the field in which the little mudblood's cottage was. There was long grass everywhere, swaying gently in the breeze, like the eye of the storm, as he could clearly see the vicious sky raging on the outskirts of the crop. He watched in morbid fascination as the plants were ripped from the ground and great pools of blood sprayed from the vacated holes in which they had sat. The grass in the air was torn to shreds and he could hear their pained cries as they were completely destroyed. This anger all sprouted from his presence, his being... his kind....and this anger and unadulterated hate protected her form his immediate breaking in to her mind.

He could hear the breaking of grass as someone approached, he could also hear they heavy breathing as they ran in ire, they footsteps were heavy and fast as they pounded the ground. Then the mental apparition of the muggle burst through the shrubbery.

Although she was breathing heavily and slightly hunched over, with her hand held just under her ribs, she remained very proud. He only quirked an eyebrow at her, and slouched in his position, and examined his nails.

She glared at him and stood up straight – and holding out her arms in his direction, in each of her hands she had two very long, very wicked looking blades. There were jagged and coated in something black – some type of mental poison he thought. She was clothed in black – like she had been when they had caught her, but these clothes were very _tight _in comparison to the real life ones , they would have been indecent if they hadn't almost covered every inch of her body.

"Who are you?" She asked breathily, the swords twitched in her unstable hands.

"I believe you know" He replied, still relaxed in his casual stance.

She looked at him blankly for a few moments, until the furious wind whipped around her carrying several names furiously "THE DARK LORD, LORD VOLDEMORT, THE SNAKE LORD, HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED, YOU-KNOW-WHO!!!" It shrieked. Her eyes widened comically, before she herself she let a wail out like a siren. "GET OUT! GET OUT!" She shrieked

At the sound of the horrendous wail another figure shuffled forward through the grass, but instead of pouncing through them like the other she parted them slightly. She peered around, at the two of them before stepping out. The young girl was dressed in bright baggy clothes – those that a young child might wear and tears streaked her face and her eyes were bright red and swollen, with her eyelashes clumped together and her face blotchy, "w..what's...happening?" She sniffled whipping her hand under her nose.

Both he and the other figure grimaced at the disgusting trail of slime that was left from her nose glistening on her hand. The other then snarled "Get back for Christ's sake leave this to me!" She prowled over, with an alien grace, she towered over the younger one, growling at her, before turning back to the actual enemy, the wind around them was a large signal of her anger. None the less she placed herself in front the younger and weaker consciousness of herself.

The wind was picking up, but it didn't even harm him, didn't touch him "Do you know muggle" He began, stepping forward "I am the greatest Legilimens of _all_ time. Do you really think you can stop me?"

She took a step backwards.

"Who taught you this?"

He lips pursed in her unwillingness to reveal the important secret, but there was no need as her thoughts blew it to him on the wind.

"Horace Slughorn"

"_Slughorn?_" Voldemort repeated, barely suppressing the laughter that was squirming in his chest. It seems his fondness for collectable people also stretched to muggles – enough so that he taught those lower than him the art of protecting the mind. At the sound of his laughter – the elder of the two consciousnesses tightened her grip on her knives, whilst the younger of the two whimpered and backed back into the crops before running into the foliage.

"Why are there two of you?" He asked

She scowled, and shook her head.

"I will find out myself then" He murmured, his first thought was to raise his wand and cut down the overbearing grass, but then if he destroyed the muggle's mind, Harry was ever the Gryffindor, would not cooperate and most likely attack everyone in the vicinity.

He rolled his eyes, and started to waltz through the field. This wouldn't take too long, and soon he would know _everything_ about Harry.

Memories flew by Voldemort digesting the ones with any value to them. Snippets of conversations flew by from distant conversations.

"_Mrs Granger! It's good to see you! Where's Hermione?"_

"_She is one of them! We didn't know what to do!"_

"_But where is she?"_

_---_

"_You sure this plan is fool-proof?" A male voice asked_

"_Depends how big the fool is. Look this safe house doesn't stand a chance – it's an in out thing – kill any who is there. It's not hard – if you lose your life ... tough shit – should have moved faster."_

_---_

"_Dursley you say? I think I know them. Why do you mention them?"_

"_Betrayed vigilante group 34, handed 'em right over to the Dark Lord they did. Proud of them snakes round their arms, they are!"_

"_You see 'em out and about... kill them – make sure they get a traitors execution too. Heads on a pike if you have the time" _

_---_

Although several of the memories would not go faster and he had to endure them as fast as they would travel.

_He saw a hand claw its way out of the ground, her Mother was carrying a younger child, although she almost dropped her at the elder muggle's scream._

_The muggles ran backwards, tripping over their own feet "ZOMBIIIIEEEEE" Rose screeched in absolute terror. Voldemort smiled "Actually they are inferi." _

"_RUNNN!!!!" Rose yelled, she turned grabbing her Mother's arm, and tugging on it. They ran around the graves as the dead crawled out of it in an attempt to grab the living prey._

"_The church! The church!" The Mother called, pointing at the darkened building upon the hill, she started towards it "These creatures can't get in the house of God!"_

"_Mum!" Rose grabbed her and shook her severely "These creatures have no souls that God can repel – they are not owned by the Devil who God can repel – because there is NO GOD!" She spun the woman around and showed her the ground splitting and rotting hands pulling it apart as they pushed themselves up. "They will kill you – we can only run! These... things are dead – they're muscles are wasting away – if we are lucky they won't be able to walk – but both you and I know people die every day. Damn the church – God can't help us now."_

_She pulled on her mother – she gaped at the church in an expression of horror and betrayal, before turning, and picking up the younger child and running after her eldest daughter._

_-----_

_He had become stuck in the memory, this one by far being the slowest as it played as slow as the events had played out in the muggles mind. It was playing in excruciating detail, everything was remembered – every sound, every sight, every emotion was there laid before him and it hurt. The pain and screams he enjoyed so hurt him, he winced. Unfortunately the girl's emotions were so intense that it even projected onto him. He watched as the woman crawled over to a girl about six year old, even though the Cruciatus curse was upon her she cried out, but she pulled the girl to her and tried to comfort her even though it was in vain. Dolohov waved his wand and the Mother was thrown backwards away from the child. She landed hard on her back and she groaned at her aching muscles._

_He watched as the girl's mind broke – and she fell limp to the ground, eyes vacant of human intellect, and the blonde curls stuck to her sweaty forehead. Her breathing was laboured, and her skin was red and inflamed from the broken blood vessels, and her nose, ears, eyes and mouth bled freely. Her Mother crawled towards the body and she reached her hand out and it shook as she touched the girl's shoulder – there was no reaction. Her Mother wailed in pure agony "MY DAUGHTER!!!" She wailed, it wavered in pitch as she sobbed. Her face twisted into a pained grimace as she rocked the girl's body, her eyes flooded and pooled with tears. "My baby, my baby, my baby" She shook her head in denial. Rose screamed from where she was jammed between two overturned cars, her leg had become stuck between the bonnet and the bumper of the two. Dolohov seemed rather pleased with his work as he shot two killing curses and the bodies slumped lifelessly._

_Rose, now became enraged and ripped her leg out from where it was stuck, ripping the flesh down the side of her leg. She ran towards him absent of the limp she should have had and plunged a knife into his cheek._

"_Bugger!!! Little bitch!" He shouted, and spat out a load of blood with a couple of yellow teeth. She went to strike again, but he disapparated, cowardly in his actions because of an emotionally unstable teenager. Voldemort sneered at the action – as did the girl. She turned back to the bodies of her Mother and sister. _

_And that is where she broke – suddenly her face cleared of emotion and it was as though nothing had happened. She turned to her late relatives and picked up the young girl and looked back at her Mother "I'll be back for you – I promise." She turned and walked away to the large green section 100 yards or so down the road and placed her there before getting the Mother and laying her down beside her sister. _

_She then knelt down on the grass for several moments just staring vacantly at a spot before pulling herself up groaning as it disturbed the large wound on her leg. She knelt down once again and winced as more blood seeped through to the ground. She started to dig with her hands, and she pulled up the grass and ripped the soil – her hands started to bleed and her nails were torn down to the beds as she dug and dug deep into the ground, before putting the two in together – embraced as they had died and kissed them both on the forehead – she checked for a pulse several times before sighing her face drawn with a brief moment of pain as she started filling in the grave. _

_She bent over wearily breathing heavily as she clasped at the stitch under her rips, as she brushed the last bit of soil over the hole, and found a roll of grass from an abandoned front garden, she laid it carefully over the top – it would not do for people to know it was a grave after all – meat was in short demand and if you were desperate enough...._

_She stood back, and looked at the ground – it looked undisturbed, for several moments before turning and running. She saw a gaunt man watching the spot she had just been – she marched over to him and grabbed him with her bloodied hands and snarled at him from her vantage point "You go near that and I will kill you – you got that?!"_

_He regarded her blankly, "I SAID YOU GOT THAT??!!" She screamed, spit flew from her mouth onto his face – it was still blank – but he nodded once. "You fucking spread that around – 'cos if I find that it has been disturbed in the slightest way – and trust me I WILL know – I will hunt you down and make you know the meaning of pain. Got that?"_

_He nodded again – she dropped him and he fell to the ground – not bothering to stop his descent, he looked at the bloody fingerprints in his dirty shirt, but as he looked up she was already walking away._

_She hid in a shed, huddling in a corner – and there she sat many hours into the night just staring blankly – before suddenly screaming and pulling at her hair in utter despair. It was so out of the blue Voldemort even started slightly. As it wheedled down to a low moan she let her hands fall to her side, and then she was silent. Then she closed off again in mere seconds, and shuffled into the corner before curling up and going to sleep._

_The girl was borderline multiple personality, maybe even a schizophrenic._

_He retreated from that memory and carried on searching for Harry, but now the mental being that watched him was gone – he received no further input from her._

After finding what he needed and absorbing the information he left her mind, and removed the _lumos _leaving her mind in darkness once again, and her tormented scream echoing through the emptiness.

He blinked several times, and when he was ready to continue looked to where she has been sitting. As it was – she wasn't there. He looked down after hearing a shaking breathy sob.

She laid on the floor, splayed in an awkward position the chains having retreated and the shock of the invasion of her mind made her fall of her chair. Her eyes wide and unseeing as a large tear slide down her face and she hyperventilated, and she trembled, whilst Voldemort watched in mild contemplation as he studied the girl. Harry and the girl had a strong bond, he could earn Harry's trust by making sure that this muggle was well cared for – maybe even by keeping them together, but of course they would have to earn that honour.

Another sob escaped her as she had been forced to re-watch her worst memories, she clawed at her face and pulled her hair as she tried to wring the memories from her mind, she kicked her legs wildly and thrashed as though she was trying to be restrained by something. He frowned slightly, unwillingly remembering his own similar actions when he was a child under the abuse of the other little bastard muggles. Damn her emotions leaving a slight echo upon him.

He bent down to her level, and grabbing her by her upper arms he rather gently sat her up. "Now listen muggle, for I shall only repeat this once." He murmured, catching her eye. "I will let you stay with Harry, if you do me a favour." He looked at her questionably, she eyed him warily through her watery eyes and slowly nodded. He smiled thinly. "Your people were planning a wizard massacre at one of the light safe houses, were you not?" She once again nodded, frowning at his choice of words.

"I want you to lead them – into my trap, by far _your_ vigilante group has been one of the best, and you are well known already for your exploits with Dolohov." She scowled at the name, he smirked, pushing all the right buttons "I need you to do this. They will not do it without you, and they will fall apart. Disperse and it will take twice as long to find them. Will you?" She pressed her lips tightly in thought. She looked hesitant. "You can do this of your own free will, or I can control you – you will be my puppet until I see fit to release you, and I can make you..." He leaned closer until he was next to her ear "Do whatever I want." He heard her sharp intake of breath full of shock, anger and fear.

There was silence for a moment "I'll strike you a deal" She whispered, he scowled but then decided to humour her.

"Go on" He sat back on his heels balancing perfectly.

"I will tell you everything you want to know about all the vigilante groups, in exchange for better rights here and that ... that you do ....control me because I can't act and I... I can't betray them."

"I do not need this information – I can just take it from your mind – why would I need you to tell me?" He asked incredulously and mocking.

"Harry" She said, his laughing cut of quickly and his crimson eyes flashed with anger and gave her a fierce look.

"Why do you think I am interested in some street urchin?" He asked

"You looked for everything to do with him in my mind – you want him for something. One word from me can help or hinder you, and you know that too." She took a deep breath pondering whether to add her last part, before deciding to do it anyway. "Also by doing this you can gain more than you will lose." She bit out even though she was sweating in her fear. He regarded her for a minute, before striking her hard across the face, and then grabbing her chin and pulling her towards him.

"Well played – for a muggle." To be honest, it was poorly played, maybe she would have been better if they had a more equal footing, although she was definitely the first to even _try_ to challenge him. Then again, she did have something against him. He would allow her this, he would have Harry in his palm and a little lenience with the muggle would gain him her loyalty, he would give her the respect she longed for, her brother in all but blood would be with her and she would tell him anything and everything without hesitation. It was almost perfect – as long as they could work together – this meaning he would give the orders and she would follow without hesitation – unlikely, but only time would tell if this endeavour would work.

"I need this removed." She gestured to the snake "or hidden. I do not allow long sleeves since we were last betrayed." He nodded , and with a small gesture the snake burrowed under her skin, painlessly of course, to keep her sweet. She grimaced barely holding the snarky remark she would have make to _anyone_ else.

"Well then, I will organise for you to be dropped off tomorrow night. Oh, and I will need one more thing from you."

She scowled, but he held all the cards, so she nodded.

"You will be killing your right hand man."

Her face twisted into absolute horror and she looked at him with complete and utter pleading. "Oh, and I will not be controlling you for that part, you prove yourself this time muggle and I will not need to test you again. I will influence you as you asked – _but_ do not lie to me – you feel no loyalty to your fellow man – you only care about yourself and a select few. You just want to push the blame of yourself – do you not?"

There were a few moments of unhealthy silence and then she spoke and her voice wavered with uncertainty "Yes...My...Lord"

He almost purred in his pleasure, he turned and smiled at her, once again coming down to her height and placing his index finger under her chin. He made sure her eyes were on his lips as he whispered "You, my dear muggle, might just be something special."

She shivered slightly, he grinned once again like a Cheshire cat. Still with only one finger under her chin he stood up and she rose to her feet too – rather like he did, no use of his arms or hands, she just unfolded herself and stood.

"You will be treated like all other muggles for the time being until your task is fulfilled." He said, "Go back outside and tell the awaiting mudblood to escort you to cage 228, and then to come back as Mr Potter will be in cage 229 until further arrangements can be made. Is that clear Rose?"

"Yes...My Lord" She averted her eyes to his bare feet.

"You can go _now_" He said.

Now, it was any man's mistake to under estimate Rose – wizard or muggle, the Dark Lord was not stupid, he was wickedly intelligent – to the point of being able to keep a man alive for hours of torture when truly he should have died after five minutes. Even more sadistic was the fact that he had developed ways to keep him conscious and his mind intact all the while. But still, he was rather shocked when the Muggle bowed to him, albeit the respect that this was showing him was forced – he could almost hear her grinding her teeth as she did so. Though the Dark Lord had not expected her to do this of her own free will he was oddly pleased – muggles although common and they bred like viruses, it was not unheard of for a muggle gem to occur – like a large diamond being dug up, rare but extremely satisfying. Rose was a resistor and a leader – she could build the muggle forces and destroy them if she wanted to – but here she was bowing in submission to the Dark Lord, ruler of wizards and muggles alike. This pleased Voldemort more than he would like to admit. Having recently trespassed in her mind he knew that Rose was almost... animalistic in her nature – she seemed in tune with her baser instincts and yet completely human – which is mostly unheard off – it is usually two separate ways not the combined force that this muggle had formed. He has noticed that in several instances in her memories that she would often growl, and if the situation called for it she would rip and tear with her teeth – even he had gone rather green around the edges watching _that. _That is why, _maybe_, he felt proud when she bowed to him – like he had tamed a wild animal that no one else had – he understood that for animals to expose parts of themselves such as their necks – as Rose was in this insistence, it showed a certain amount of trust – or at least loyalty.

"Ahh, yes – for your earlier impertinence – _cruico._" She fell to the floor, the sore side of her face colliding with the ground unmercifully and she screamed as she curled in on herself. "You shall hold your tongue from now in my presence – you are my property and I will choose when and where you can express your opinion – or even talk at all. If you cannot learn you will lose your tongue all together." He removed the curse, she shuddered the aftermath lingering in her nervous system.

"Go" He dismissed turning his back on her, and picking up a document and casually reading it, whilst observing her.

She stiffly rose, and marched quickly out of the room, not looking back, but her longer gait and tense shoulder said it all – she was not happy – and when does the wolf realise it can overpower the master? Voldemort dismissed that thought – she was more of a mongrel.... a lame mongrel at that!

---

Just before Harry was due to come in, drugged with the most powerful pain reliever known to wizard kind – this was often used in torture to make someone lose _all_ the feeling in their limbs and yet remain conscious. Of course that was why the Dark Lord _loved_ it. Voldemort settled down in the armchair by the fire, pondering the abomination Harry Potter was. He was definitely the prophecy child after all, he had known that from when he went to Godric's Hollow that bloody Halloween. Ah, and the poor Longbottom child – magically handicapped, poor boy, although still accepted at Hogwarts. Bellatrix had really knocked two shades of shit out of the poor bugger. Voldemort even acknowledged that it was two far, didn't stop him rewarding Bella though. He once again pondered Harry, he was embarrassed about that night. James Potter has been an easy kill – unfortunately the last pure blood of the Potter line. He has fired a few barely legal curses at Voldemort, although effortlessly blocked, he had found himself impressed with James Potter. It had been a shame he couldn't have seen sense and joined him. He was half way up the stairs before Potter's body had even touched the floor. He blasted open the door to the child's nursery, Lily Potter was stood in front of a crib, Gryffindor defiance in her eyes. She blocked Harry from site, who was silent and watching with worried eyes – for one so young he was very conscientious of his surroundings.

"Stand aside" He said, his yew wand gestured her to the side impatiently.

"Please not Harry!" She begged, her fingers twisting in between the cribs bars as though to anchor herself there.

"Stupefy" He sighed – already tired of the mudblood antics – and after all he did promise Severus he would spare her.

The infant watched his Mother fall, his mouth a perfect tiny O of shock, he turned back and looked at the man in a dawning sense of horror.

"Avada Kedavra" He barely had finished the words as the green light flung out of the tip of the wand – like a cobra striking its prey, ready and eager to kill.

The infant paralysed in shock, didn't move as it came towards him and struck him, he hit the back of his crib as the spell forced him backwards, and started wailing. His little hands covered his forehead as blood trickled through it from a large red, raw and inflamed cut was stamped into his forehead. He kicked his bare feet, his tiny toes curling in his pain.

The curse however had rebounded and had hit the Dark Lord – and he staggered backwards, hand touching his nose gently as a slow stream of blood trickled out of one nostril.

Voldemort was the only living being who had a great knowledge of magic – in fact he knew the most about magic in the world as others did not want to breach dark magic boundaries. The only way that this travesty could have occurred is that the child had obviously reflected his own curse back to him. Taking into account that Voldemort may have no issues with killing an innocent child, he could not kill himself – for he did not have the will to do so. Also the killing curse must have the want to kill whomever you are aiming at, and the belief that it will work. Now Volemort's killing curse was for Harry Potter – not him, so it was unlikely to actually kill it's caster, then we must bring it the fact there was also a prophecy that was hanging over his head – this could have of course created a doubt that the curse would actually kill the child – and for this dark spell you really had to want it, to know it would work.

Then we can look at it at it from Harry's own placement in these turn of events. The spell hit him and then was reflected – there by making it Harry's curse being aimed at the intruder – and what child of just over a year old has the will and intent to kill. It is well known that if you do not have the intent you can say the curse again and again- and maybe only give someone a nose bleed and that in itself is unlikely.

Voldemort scowled in anger at the baby, who was fussing over the cut in his forehead. In fact he was so angry that sparks shot out of his wand – landing on the carpet and igniting. Voldemort watched the fire catch and then smiled, he looked at the alive occupants – they could burn alive for all he cared – how dare they humiliate him – even if no one saw. He set a few more flames around the room, before shutting the door and locking it. He walked down the stairs and viciously kicked the body of James Potter, before leaving the boundaries and Apparating away. He could feel a blush on his cheeks and scowled, his embarrassing failure never failing to humiliate him. He was distracted from his musings as the door swung open to the two mudbloods carrying a limp Harry Potter. Voldemort pointed at the chair and watched like a hawk as the gently placed his body there – they could not be careless with a half-blood as he was higher than them.

Voldemort rolled his eyes in exasperation as the little snake who had been talking to the boy yelled "_BYE HARRY!_"

The doors shut as the men scrambled to get out quickly and then it was only Harry and the Dark Lord left.

"I didn't kill your mother out of spite you know." He began as he sauntered over "But she resisted our dominance and she had to go."

She leant on his desk and watched as Harry flopped "I believe it was _Rose_ who said that people die in war – it's nothing personal."

There was an accusing mumble from Harry.

"She did not mean your Mother?" Voldemort questioned – taking a guess to which way the boy's mind would travel.

There was no answer.

"Then again she might not have cared." He suggested, as he walked around the boy slowly.

There was an angry garbled slur spat at him.

"Oh dear Harry, that potion..." He sucked in his breath as if he actually did not want to break the bad news to the boy. He paused in front of him, giving him a pitying look. "..well you see it renders most muscles immobile – including your tongue – I'm sure you have noticed. No one would hear you scream – even if they could only Rose might try and help you – but no else would and a muggle is easily restrained." He was now behind Harry finishing the circle he had stopped in order to talk.

Fingers ghosted against Harry's jugular vein "You're panicking Harry" He heard his voice behind him. "Then again... other emotions make the pulse speed up." He could feel the Dark Lord approaching, and he could feel the weight of his body as he placed his hands on the back of the chair "Certain emotions"

"Why are you doing this?" He slurred – the potions effects' weighing heavily on his tongue, each word was like dragging morbidly obese bodies through thick mud – but he managed to make them sound normal.

"Because it makes you... uncomfortable" Harry could feel the Dark Lord's breath in his ear, he almost could hear his lips forming the words. He leaned his head away, but the potent pain relief draught made him completely lax. His head flopped to the side, resting on his shoulder – such a position should have been uncomfortable but as it were Harry only realised his had moved so drastically when his vision tilted to the left.

There was a delighted laugh, full of mocking and then Voldemort was looking at him, almost nose to nose, smirking as he tilted his head in much the same manner as Harry had. "Harry Potter, you amuse me so." He said as he grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and brought back up his head.

"You are a Potter –" He whispered "The last of a noble line – like I am. There are even rumours that somewhere along the line there is Gryffindor blood coursing through every Potter's veins." He ran his finger down Harry's neck. "A prize such as yourself – your blood, your name is not to be undervalued."

Harry could feel the increasing excitement in the air, the growing darkness in the room. Harry knew his eyes had closed and his head was straining as it leant to the left as it once again fell, and he could feel Voldemort's lips next to his upturned ear "And I'm no fool" He could hear Voldemort's bare feet walked on the dark wooden flooring, and then a warm hand over his cold one. He could feel his sleeve being rolled up to the elbow, the cold air hitting the vulnerable wrist. He could feel Voldemort's finger run across the inside of it – he shivered at the contact, and he tried to pull his limb away, but it only budged slightly. The Dark Lord curled his hand around it, "Harry" He said softly, rebuking him.

Harry felt tears of frustration boil under his eyelids, and they slid out – much to Harry's displeasure, Voldemort tisked and wiped them away. "No need to cry, Harry. This is the beginning of an era."

There was a sharp rap upon the door "Come in Severus" Voldemort called.

"My Lord?" Snape asked as he bowed.

"I need the antidote for the pain reliever"

"Antidote?" Severus asked from his bent position, as he had not been given permission to rise.

"Yes – he had a concentrated version – normally used for torture to rid the victim of the control of their limbs and senses. I asked you to bring it."

"I apologise My Lord! Nott did not specify which potion I was to bring the antidote for."

"Do you have it or not Serverus?" He hissed impatiently.

"Yes, My Lord" Was the hushed reply.

"Well then hand it over – we could have saved time" The Dark Lord snapped. There was a clink of glass and then he could feel his head titled back, his mouth pried open and a potion slip down his throat. He shuddered as the potion brought back his feeling, it ran like legs all over his body, to the tips of his fingers, to the base of his toes.

"Glad you could join us Mr. Potter." Voldemort inclined his head studying him. Before barking out suddenly "Severus hold his head." There were two hands holding either side of his head, and he felt his legs and body bind inside, he could feel everything, but he couldn't make them work, apart from his left arm.

Voldemort knelt down and placed the tip of his yew wand at the middle of his arm, Harry tried to move it, tried and wriggled in the two men's hold, but with a hand around his wrist and two holding his head he could do much.

"Mr Potter – hold _still_" The warning in the words were enough to still Harry completely, and watching in frozen horror like a deer in the headlights as the wand pressed into the skin uncomfortably and the dreaded word left the Dark Lords mouth. _Morsmorde._

Nothing. And then the pain – that was all there was. It was focused on his arm, thousands of needles jabbed into his skin, as they stained it into a tattoo of the Dark Lord's will, it ran through his nerve endings, danced along his spinal cord and lit the rest of his body. Agony of owner ship pounded with each heartbeat, as the black magic, travelled through his veins and ensnaring his heart until even the Dark Lord owned that. It trailed up his face, before attacking his scar, he had been groaning before but now he screamed and howled in agony and bucked with it, but the hands held him down. Their cold hands made his skin seem all the hotter as the fiery darkness coiled around every muscle in his body. His spine arched under the pain as his scar ripped and bleed, the blood dripped down into his eyes but he couldn't stop it. His legs kicked out as his nervous system went into shock and his limbs reacted in odd ways – they would spasm and lash out. Tears of pain ran down Harry's face mixing with the blood, as Harry's throat ripped too with the force of his screams. Then it was over, the pain suddenly stopped, and it felt almost worse for it to, there was a dull ache lingering through him, apart from his left arm which stung fiercely, he slumped back into his chair, sweat dripping of his forehead. He gasped and breathed loudly as the pain flowed like the tide in waves. He looked at his arm now, and saw the blood swell around each intricate detail, and run towards his wrist.

The arms around his head let go softly, and the hand briefly clasped his shoulder, and gave a slight movement of the fingers as not to disturb the nerve endings, but a slight comfort in the pain filled hovel he was in at the moment.

"Thank you Severus, you may leave."

The doors shut quietly "Well that was most certainty interesting wasn't it Harry?"

Harry collapsed in on himself, and let the pain wash over him – unable to stop it – he didn't stop the tears as they fell – even though he wanted to as each warm drop ran down his cheek in a streak of pain. He watched the tattoo as the snake wriggled, and blood fell of the black embossed body. The skull watched him too it seemed with those empty sockets, as they welled up with blood and ran down his arm as well – for a moment it almost seemed that it was crying too. Harry let go of consciousness –the darkness was safe for once.

----

The Dark Lord summoned Bellatrix, and in a matter of moments she was knocking on the door – hair loose and she was in her dressing gown. She still was wearing a light bit of make-up but she was obviously getting ready to retire for the night.

"My Lord?" She asked excitedly, once the door was shut, she was almost bouncing in excitement.

"Bella... come here" He whispered, as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, his eyes were on Bellatrix's form as it leaned on the door frame, her arms crossed across her chest, and her lips painted red were grinning flirtatiously. She had earned the right not to bow to him in private, as she was his most loyal, he knew Lucius would go against his direct orders to save his own skin – Bella on the other hand would do _anything_ for him. Anything for a Slytherin was a big word, and yet he knew that she would do more than that if she could. Mad – she was too for even contemplating doing whatever he demanded. Earlier on in the war he asked her plenty of times to lay down her life for him and she had.

She walked over, slowly her hips swaying as she regarded the pair, her heels echoing with each impact on the floor as she got closer. "My Lord?" She asked, inclining her head and keeping it focussed on her shoes.

The Dark Lord, placed his index finger under her chin and tilted her head up until she was looking him in the eye, she looked at him in unveiled curiosity and he smirked at her. He turned her head to the slumping lump of wizard that was tied to the chair.

"This is the last in the line of Potter – half blood." He sneered at that – as did she copying her Lord. "None the less, he is the last and he will need to be like a Pure blood for his name – and you are going to teach him etiquette for one of his standing. Also no crucioing him."

He saw her grimace at the fact _she_ would be teaching a half blood and no torturing! Now that was torture in itself!

He placed a slight pressure upon her lips, with his thumb and she could feel her lips stretch in a smile "Do you understand Bellatrix?" He whispered in her ear.

He felt her nod and then her say "Of course, My Lord." She whispered alluringly drugged in his presence, she was unconsciously leaning forward, trying to get as close as possible. She would never defy her Lord no matter the task.

"I'm glad" He murmured "Cage 229 Bella"

-----

Harry awoke many hours later – his body ached slightly and his brand tingled unpleasantly, he turned to see Rose staring at him.

"I'm sorry – I heard you but I couldn't come to get you" She whispered, as she picked at the end of her boot lace – she looked up her eyes red and puffy, swollen and bloodshot. She gave him a wavering smile. "Did it hurt?" She gestured to his arm – which was wrapped in a shoddy bandage, and blood was seeping through, the blood had congealed and gone black.

He smiled bravely "Only a bit. What did he do too you?"

"My... Mo...family" She said, as she got on her knees carefully trying not to hit her head on the top of it as she tried to get closer. He started when he realised that her top was shorter and ragged. He looked down at his wrist and then sighed in comprehension.

"Rose... you didn't have to ruin your shirt for me."

"I wanted too." She was pressed up to the bars in her cage next to his now. "How are you?" She asked, worrying her bottom lip as she chewed on it – with her clean teeth. She was endlessly grateful for Lily for that one – perfectly clean and straight teeth was a luxury many didn't have now. Lily was gone now though – it burnt in her chest, and made her upset, but she needed to know about Harry – blood is thicker than water after all.

"I... don't know... it hasn't sunk in yet..." He admitted, "Where are my glasses?" He suddenly asked.

"Here." She pressed them into his hand "Don't change the subject. It's not wrong to cry you know."

"I..I.. just... can't" He whispered "It's so wrong as well that I haven't."

"No – shush – it is not wrong – there hasn't been any time for you to mourn."

Harry just grunted, not sure if this feeling of nothingness towards his Mother was just shock or not.

Harry took Rose's hand from her cage and held on to it – it felt right to hold someone's hand when he felt so insecure. She quickly snatched it back – complete instinct and fighting mode.

"Ever think I might need some comfort Rose?" Harry snapped. Ahh, now he could feel it, building and welling up – but he was a damn at the moment – and it might break – but not yet, he couldn't now – and Rose was unstable – so he would hold it all in for her now, because he would need her strong for when his loss truly hit home.

She looked rather ashamed for a few moments, before holding back out her scared left hand; it wavered slightly in the air, and her fingers even twitched every so often. He took her hand from between the bars of their cages. He could feel the rough skin, covered in blisters and dry skin, and he tightened his hold as her hand convulsed. He sighed – the effects of war had caused on her, strained her to the point of instability – mentally and physically. "You know I don't mean to Harry." She whispered. He squeezed her hand comfortingly "I know."

Suddenly she let go and turned to him fully in her cage, leaning on her knees, back hunched she looked at him with such intensity, and her eyes held that crazed gleam she seemed to get in her hysteria. "Harry" She whispered urgently, wrapping her hands around the metal bars. She pressed her face to them in an attempt to get closer. "Harry" She tried again as her breathing hitched. "Harry... P-promise you won't leave me?" She asked softly, but her voice shook and her eyes were shiny.

"Of course not Rose – you know I won't" He reassured her. It did not seem to help her at all, if fact it seemed to make her worse "Harry – you can't promise that" She leaned further towards him, her hands tightening on the bars and her breathing grew erratic. "'Arry" She choked, her voice high pitched and tight from her lack of breath, her hands tightened on the bars again and the dry skin that was already taunt over her knuckles split, Harry winced as the blood ran in rivulets down her fingers and arms. "Jesus Harry! I can't lose anymore. Don't let me lose you too! I... just can't lose another... it's too much!" She chewed upon her top lip trying to stop the tears falling from her eyes; she grabbed his hands after releasing the bars. Her fragile fingers locked into his own and she shook them in her madness and her fear "I just can't Harry" She begged of him "Please Harry – don't leave me alone." She whispered fiercely. How it hurt Harry to see his elder sister like this, so although her hands were bleeding, he gripped them back tightly, she needed it to know that he was there and not a presence in her mind. "Rose." He stated firmly "I will never leave you, until the last breath leaves my body, I will stay with you."

She smiled hollowly, and just sat there not able to relinquish the hold on his hands, and he wouldn't leave her alone, so he sat there, as she started into the corner of the room tears casually rolling down her face – as it had happened thousands of times before.

The next morning –

Rose had fallen asleep, still managing to hold his hands tightly through her slumber. That was until Bellatrix stormed in at seven in the morning and pulled Harry out of his cage roughly – Rose did not stir from her deep sleep, the lines of worry smoothed out from her face.

Bellatrix dragged him as though here was an invisible collar and lead around his neck through series of corridors and rooms until they reached their desired location. A dining room it turned out to be. He was sat at the head of the table – of course strapped so there was no breaking free.

"Right Potter – I am here to teach you how to act up to a Pure blood name – unbefitting for a half blood as yourself – but The Dark Lord says you are too learn so you shall!" She paced, watching him.

"One day you shall be a head of a family as the last surviving heir, so you shall learn from that – and then we shall teach you how to treat your betters – one thing that you will definitely have to remember there is deference."

Harry scowled.

"Do not scowl at me – next time I will crucio you! Filthy half-blood!" She pointed her gnarled wand at him. "You do as I say in this room. If anyone else comes into this room who is higher than you – you will do as they say, unless I forbid it." She tilted her head up proudly. "If you don't you will get a taste of pain. Understood?" She stood above him looking down her nose and waited impatiently.

"I answer to no one." He said- meeting her gaze head on – his eyes cold as ice whilst her's burned with silent fury.

"You answer to me in here – and everywhere you answer to the Dark Lord!" She shrieked, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself uttering that _blessed _curse.

"He does not own me!"

"Oh, he does" She pointed the wand at the dirty bandage before removing it and incinerating the fabric. She knelt down to it. "This marks you – it's _his_ mark, you bare _his_ mark, therefore you belong to _him_."

"It's disgusting and I don't willingly wear it!"

Rather than being angered by his exclamation, she focussed solely on the Dark Mark entranced by its slow dance across his inner wrist. It was as though she hadn't even heard him.

"The mark is power, it is a honour...it's _everything_" Bellatrix purred, holding his wrist in her delicate fingers, she brought it up to her face, running her nose across it, inhaling deeply, before smiling vivaciously. She then slowly drew it up to her mouth and licked the mark, slowly running her tongue from the head of the snake to the tip of the skull. Harry tried to rip his arm away from the insane witch, but she held him tight, surprisingly strong for a small woman and all he could do was grimace in disgust as he felt her lick his painful brand leaving a disgusting, warm, wet sticky trail behind.

Her tongue was black with the tint of dark magic and Harry's own blood ran down it. She exaggeratedly licked her lips, making sure to smear his blood all around them.

She leaned close to him, and said very softly "Tastes like _him._" The slight metallic scent of her breath made Harry cringe and try to pull his face away.

"It's the closest you will ever get" He bit out with deliberate harshness, _just _somehow knowing that is all she wanted.

She scowled before breathing heavily and she released a small deep laugh "Ickle Potty has a loose mouth after all" She cooed, she gripped his face tightly between her smooth, soft hands – so unlike Rose's, how easy it had been for Bellatrix to live, whilst Rose fought to survive. She giggled madly and then said in a feral growl "You're going to be so much FUN!"

**A/N – Bam! Third chapter out – please review, I want a fair few for the next chapter please? I want to know what you thought of Bella, what you thought of my theory of how Harry defeated Voldemort when he was a baby – realistic? Or not? I need reviews people so please, please, please review – I will get the next chapter out ASAP if you do. :~) **


	4. Seventh Piece Trained

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**I am so sorry about the wait for this chapter – I don't really have an excuse – my exams finished a long time ago, but everything has been on hold due to the exams and I haven't been able to pick anything up since. I have been moving like some kind of zombie through my house. I am just not working at all. Anyway – I hope this isn't too much of a disappointment. Also, my beta hasn't checked this - so it is probable that there are a few**** mistakes in it - so sorry in advance.**

**WARNING – Violence, but I think it's pretty mild; however I thought I would be on the safe side. **

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Seventh Piece Trained**

"Sit up Potter!" Bellatrix's harsh voice rang around the room – each corner sending it back around towards them. Harry scowled, and deliberately banged his elbows on to the table and leant on them.

There was a sharp _thwack_ that followed shortly and a yelp of pain as a wooden stick hit him on his lower back. Bellatrix not being able to crucio him had resorted to smacking him with a metre rule. Not nearly as powerful as her crucio but it stung enough, although Harry wouldn't let that put him in line. If anything he was infamous for being stubborn.

"I said _sit up!_" Bellatrix hissed angrily like a street cat, he could almost imagine her hackles raised as she spluttered at him. He frowned and thought that perhaps it was not the best idea to test her. He glanced at her nails and she held the ruler in his vision, he decided he didn't want to test those either. He sighed loudly and sat up straight.

"Better." She commented, proudly as though she had trained a dog to do a new trick. _Bitch. _"You see Potter, a half blood can learn too." She said and she walked around the table her eyes focussed on his form and her fingers caressing the long ruler, she grazed her nail along it continuously enjoying the screech it issued every time.

He bit his tongue from issuing a _very_ nasty comment about her. Her wand was rather near her, and he doubted her lack of self control - she seemed to retain an insanity that was only afforded due to her excessive use of the dark arts.

"Hmm" She pondered using one of her talons to tap her chin. "I think the only way for you to remember how to sit properly Potter, would be for you to stay like that indefinitely." She turned a smug grin in his direction "What do you think Potty?" She purred, leaning over the table displaying an indecent amount of cleavage as she widened her large black eyes and studied him.

Her face couldn't even render her shock when he spat at her, the large frothy dollop of saliva catching her on her left cheek, a few specks landing in her eye whilst the rest slowly ran down her face. The small bubbles contained in the spit burst as they ran, dropping of her proud jaw and down her top which neckline was too low. Her face which remained immobile for a few precious seconds apart from the shocked blink and the shrinking of her large false bambi eyes, before, her lips which had been curved upwards rapid fell downwards like a puppets arm strings being cut. The lips parted in a silent snarl her pearly teeth flashing in the floating candle lights and the thin streams of light that crawled through the windows shutters. Harry had barely a moment's notice before she threw herself at him, screeching at him like some mad monkey.

Such was the force of her body knocking into him made him fly back in his chair. It fell backwards, with him still attached to it and her with it. She sat straddled over his chest and with seconds her wand was placed between his eyes near the bridge of his nose.

"How DARE you... you filthy... disrespectful little... bastard spawn of a MUDBLOOD!" She breathed heavily, her chest heaving with the anger she could not seem to express enough. Her wand quivered in her hand, it shook and wavered between Harry's eyes as the tip glowed a bright red before going white and the heat making a thin sheen of sweat develop on Harry's forehead. He stretched his neck trying to escape the gnarled stick that was still shaking heavily with Bellatrix's restrained anger. She screamed through clenched teeth at him before jumping up and firing several dark curses at the furniture. A large davenport exploded in a violent burst of large wooden shards as an invisible force ripped it apart.

She yowled in fury and cursed the walls as she frothed at the mouth and stomped around, ripping drapes and pushing over heavy sideboards that balanced only on ornate feet. Harry on the other hand still strapped with invisible bonds to his chair watched the ceiling, watching as the large chandeliers reflected the lights of Bellatrix's curses. A cloud of dust exploded next to the one that was above Harry as a curse cracked the rather ornate ceiling, and the plaster floated down towards the table and him. He watched the chandelier carefully and apart from the wobbling and clattering of the tiny crystals hitting each other gently, the light fixture seemed relatively unharmed and stable with the large gold claws still deeply grooved into the damaged ceiling.

He heard the door open, and tried to decipher who it was. Although the heavy set footfalls and the deep rumbled laugh that echoed loudly in the half destroyed room as Bella shrieked was not someone that Harry knew. However he still tensed and waited to see this new threat.

"My, my, Bella, I don't think the Dark Lord will appreciate your new... decor arrangements in his dining room." The voice was deep and animalistic – like their vocal chords had been torn through growling or something else ... primal. There was another throaty chuckle as Bellatrix fired another curse screaming at him.

"GET OUT GREYBACK!" She screeched. She then carried on firing more dark curses leaving a variety of marks on the walls that Harry could view from his position on the floor. There was more chuckling which had grown rougher into a barking kind of noise.

"So, Bellatrix ... what poor soul are you torturing today?" He heard wood groan as he supposed this 'Greyback' was sitting on something light, a thin wood or he was very heavy. There was the odd sound of _sniffing_ the air, as Bellatrix replied with "Dark Lord's orders Greyback, surely you of all people do not want to breach your limits after the last time." It was smug and a lot calmer which gave Harry the small hope that he might survive his punishment from her.

He hated sitting there tied to the chair, unable to move or do anything. He started however when a face peered over the table at him. He was ... horrendous, and wolfish, he leered down at Harry with his dark blue eyes that were extremely unnerving; he bared his brown teeth to Harry in a semblance of a smile.

"Hello pup" He said, watching him unblinkingly.

Harry just nodded to him. He smile was tight and strained – conservative. Bellatrix came back into view and looked down at him. "Do not worry yourself Potter, this is Fenrir Greyback. He is a werewolf. None of the protocol we have learned is needed for him. He is below even your filthy blood."

Greyback growled – a low rumble in his chest and the back of his throat. "Below his filthy blood? I am above the both of you – he may have filthy blood but I'm willing to bet yours is worse you inbred bitch!" He leaned towards her and snapped his teeth inches away from her face. She merely leant back not bothered by the proximity that his teeth had come in with her porcelain face.

She placed her wand on his chin, and said in a voice that was like silk "Bad doggie..." She pressed her wand in deeper and twisted it slightly. "I should put you out of your misery, you disgusting flea ridden mongrel that dares disgrace the rest of us by wearing human skin. You are not one of us – you..." She leant further towards him, enjoying the sound of his grinding teeth... well the plague that coated the remains of them, and then continued in a guttural growl that he had similarly used "... should be crawling on the floor with the other vermin that the Dark Lord permits to defecate his dungeons."

Greyback snarled angrily "You _bitch!_" He roared, and Harry could only watch in horror – Lestrange was completely mad... and yet somehow brilliant. It was very easy to see why she was the only favoured female in the Dark Lord's ranks and how she was the favourite out of even the male death eaters. Also Greyback was interesting in an animalistic kind of way, his mannerisms suggested that human arguments were dealt with in an animal mindset. He and Rose would get on.

Greyback carried on ignorant of Harry's inner thoughts and speculations on the two of them. "Hmm, I might not be considered worthy enough to be called 'human' but at least I am not the Dark Lord's whore, but then again you would be begging like the dog _you_ are to undo the Dark Lord's zipper with your teeth." He chucked grimly, and smiled fiercely. "No such luck yet, eh Bella?"

A shocked laugh tore itself from Harry's throat before he could register it was him. When he did he cut it instantly – after all he would be left in the room alone with her when this...man was gone. Greyback grinned slightly "I like this one, Lestrange." He laughed.

She shrieked again, and Harry could not restrain the roll of his eyes. Greyback chuckled loudly, before getting up and walking out of Bellatrix's horrendous vocal emissions. Her face had turned puce, ugly blotches of red pooling her face in the most unattractive fashion as she drew breath heavily and loudly.

"Bye bye Bella!" Greyback called cheerily, as he closed the door behind him after giving a mocking wave.

The only sound in the room for a few precious moments was Lestrange's heavy breathing, before the sound of her clicking heels started to approach Harry's prone form.

"POTTER!" She grabbed him by his hair, and pulled him up, the invisible bindings on the chair releasing him, she dragged him out of the room, and for a brief moment Harry could see the black burn marks that were scattered across the walls. He felt the wood beneath his feet crunch as he stood on the many splinters that were everywhere. He had to jog lightly to keep up with Bellatrix's fast pace that she maintained with her ridiculous heels on. He was half bent over as her small stature prevented him from standing his normal height that although was not much, still had a rather large impact on his gait now that he was forced to be hunched like the hunchback of _Notre Dame_.

"I am sick of your theatrics you insolent little bastard! I will have no more – you can go back to your cage like the little filthy blooded beast you are!"

Harry grinded his teeth at her insult as he carried on walking eyes on the floor. He casually looked sideways as he passed the cages on the way towards his own. Muggles and mudbloods alike watched him as he was bodily dragged through the labyrinth that was the fortress in which he was forced to stay. There was no life in some of those peoples' eyes, just vacant bodies hunched over attempting to squeeze themselves in uncomfortable positions trying to find a way to sit so that can find a reprieve from their burning muscles. Unfortunately they were granted no such luxury.

There was the sound of laughter echoing throughout the long narrow corridors that was slowly getting louder, along with the shrieks of pain from an unknown source, though it sounded like a female child. Bella paused, releasing her hold on his hair and placed the hand around his wrist, she turned to him, the scowl that had marred her pretty face turned into a happy smile, before she started to pull him along the hallway excitedly, a bounce in her lengthened strides.

As they turned another corner, all of which were indistinguishable to Harry, they saw a young girl on the floor bucking with agony as some unknown curse was put on her, causing her to writher on the cold floor, the sounds of her pain ripping unwillingly from her throat. A dark figure circled the girl as she lay pitifully on the ground, sobbing into her tiny hands; her face flushed an unhealthy shade of red from exertion. The figure was almost purring with delight, when Bellatrix let go of his wrist and skipped over to the slightly bent man, as he watched the child try to roll away from him.

"Oh Smith – praying on the little muggles are we?" Bellatrix laughed, as she too pulled out her own wand from her sleeve.

"Back off Lestrange!" Smith spoke coldly with an undertone of irritation, as he stepped over the young girl. "Go find you own muggle to play with!" He hissed, before seeing Harry, "Or are you just finishing up?" He then saw the dark mark wriggling contentedly on Harry's forearm. "Or moving onto purer blood are we?"

"Oh do shut up Smith! I receive personal orders from the Dark Lord – you might know the same honour if you could progress from the second tier." She threw him a smug look, as his turned into a bitter grimace, as she gestured to the side with her wand, "Now move – I would like a turn!"

"You will have to wait – I am not finished with it yet!" He spat, pivoting on his foot, and raising his wand before sending a non-verbal curse at the girl, making her once again erupt in screams.

Harry remained still in his shock watching in horror before moving into action.

"Oi! Stop that!" Harry found himself shouting at the dark figure, hidden partially by his hood. The chapped, red sore looking lips twisted into a bitter grimace of disgust and annoyance.

He turned arrogantly and asked "Now why would I want to be doing that?"

"It's just a child." He stated simply – it should have been enough, it would have been for anyone else... anyone normal.

Bellatrix laughed as did the mysterious figure, hers a hysterical giggle that spoke of delirious delight and his a deep malicious chuckle.

"Ooh Potty, you _are_ learning. IT is a child!" Bellatrix ran over to him and pinched his cheeks, grinning at him manically, her eyes shining with pride.

"You can't kick a child – no matter what blood it is!"

"Of course we can! Can't we Smith? _We_ are pure bloods. However you are not so low down in the blood scale that you cannot indulge too." She smiled generously, suddenly seeming to have taken a liking to him.

"But it doesn't matter who you are! You can't do it!" He argued, getting desperate, and he gestured to the small girl who ran towards to him and hugged his legs. He manoeuvred her behind him so that they could no longer harm her. Bellatrix scowled at him and then said in an angered tone "Potter! You are lower than Smith and me. You have no authority over us! Give us back the muggle!"

He shook his head looking braver than he felt.

"_Harry, Harry, such the Gryffindor. When will you learn, little one?_" Voldemort asked, blocking the light from the top of a staircase that ascended up to the Dark Lord's personal quarters. He was leaning casually on the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his long pale fingers drumming on his arm.

Bellatrix and Smith instantly dropped to their knees, Bellatrix going so far as to press her face to ground.

"My Lord!" She gasped "I tried to teach him! I really did!" She tried to push herself deeper into the floor – as though she was trying to sink in to it.

"Do not worry yourself Bella – Mr Potter would never be an easy to teach student. Whether it is the mudblood genes from his mother or the stubbornness from his father...I suppose we will never know. Mr Potter would never accept all that he needs to know in one day after all – even if he were willing." He said mirthlessly, as he started to descend the stairs, eyes fixed on Harry condescendingly.

"_Harry, give the muggle girl back to them._" Voldemort ordered him softly.

Harry once again, feeling the small girl trembling from where she had wrapped her hands around his knees, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the punishment he was sure to receive.

"No" The word was spoken softly, however in the silence it was spoken it made it seem very, very loud. Like a shout down a well- it became magnified.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, the crimson irises seemed to glow. Harry suddenly gasped, and grabbed his forearm. It burned like acid in a wound filled with salt. His mouth hung open and no sound came out his moving lips as his eyes watered in pain.

"_Harry... I will give you this last chance._" Voldemort had walked over to him and was looking down at him.

"N..!" Harry managed to choke out in his agony. Voldemorts whole face twisted into something terrifyingly ugly, yet so beautiful too.

"_My patience wanes Harry._" Was all he said in that beautiful and dangerous voice, and Harry shook with fear, but he remained there – glaring at his _owner, _though he remained tall and defiant. His mark burned with Voldemort's anger, and how it burned, he wanted to double over and fall to the floor, curl into himself and rock to try and dull the burn. This is perhaps what made Harry remember whom he was dealing with and with an emotional restrained voice he choked out "I'm sorry." To the little girl and moved away from her.

However she did not look at him with betrayal, in fact she looked at him like she understood completely why he stepped away. A tiny smile plucked the corner of her lips and she nodded. It almost seemed a thank you for trying. That is why Harry felt so angry she shouldn't have to accept that, she shouldn't expect it. He was brought out of his thoughts when Voldemort placed one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other over the burning brand.

"_Come with me Harry._" He pushed him towards the stairs, and he tripped but managed to catch himself, before continuing up the flight of wooden elaborate stairs.

"Your muggle – Bella, Smith." Was all Voldemort said to the other two who were both still on their knees.

There were their mummers of thanks and breathless 'My Lords'. Harry sneered as he dutifully climbed the stairs, the Dark Lord behind him, the repressive magic pressing on his shoulders making him hang his head – as though he were ashamed.

He was taken to the throne room and the door slammed shut behind him, he noticed that there were a few people scattered around, one of them was painting a world map on the far wall.

"On your knees!" Voldemort hissed, his angry magic knocking Harry flat of his feet, and landing heavily on his knee caps, he winced as he heard and felt them crack with the impact.

Voldemort ascended the steps and sat on his throne, and surveyed the fallen boy, the raven hair hanging in jagged waves of split ends.

"_Harry, you must know that your actions deserve punishment do you not?_" He asked, soflty, parseltongue coming easily to him, and his control of the serpent language unchallenged. Harry himself would helplessly slip into parseltongue when he heard it, and Voldemort understood this as he had had the same trouble when he had first discovered his affinity with snakes, oft speaking the serpent tongue whenever he happened to pass one in the Slytherin common room.

"_They_ _deserve to be punished – they were torturing a child! A defenceless muggle child!_" Harry spat out, glaring at the Dark Lord, as he held his head defiantly.

Voldemort glared at him, his crimson eyes flashing and darkening in anger. "_Harry_" He purred darkly, throatily and dangerously. "_I do not appreciate your tone. I will not have you speak to me like that. I will not show you this lenience again. This is your one and only warning! Do you UNDERSTAND?_" The last sentence had risen from a tightly controlled anger hiss to a high pitch infuriated ... _scream?_ There was no explanation for the sound that the Dark Lord had made, which unfortunately for Harry made him once again speak out of turn.

"_I'm sorry My Lord_" He replied his voice thick with sarcasm as he observed the floor. "_But when you sound like that I cannot take you seriously._"

Everyone in the room winced at the look on the Dark Lord's face – if they could actually understand parseltongue, the Dark Lord would have probably crucioed Harry until his ears bled, however they couldn't but Harry had pushed his boundaries too far.

He stood and approached Harry, he stood in front of him casting a shadow over the boy. Oh, the sweet irony, he would do that anyway figuratively, twist the boy, drown him the dark arts and make him brutal and completely his.

Voldemort studied him for a while and let the tension increase watching as Harry's shoulders tightened more. He struck like the serpent his symbol represented and had a large fistful of Harry's messy black hair. He made sure his fingers scraped the boy's scalp, layers of skin collecting under his nails. Harry's breath was sucked in sharply as the pain sent little fiery sparks towards his scar, which twanged painfully in response.

Voldemort grinned enjoying his little horcurx's pain, but it was not enough for him so he pulled the boy up, not enough so that he could balance on his feet or his knees. He kept him so that Harry could only hang there by his hair. He gasped and tried to hold on to the piece of hair that the Dark Lord had his hand wrapped around. Voldemort smacked the hand away, and tightened his hold on the boy.

Harry cried out, his head bent backwards as the Dark Lord tightened the hold he had in his hair.

Harry could also feel the brimming pain in his scar, it kept building up, he could see the room spin and black spots dance across his eyes as his brain attempted to shut down as the pressure increased on it. He wanted to lose consciousness as his brain needed to establish itself from the scrambled thoughts that ran riot in his mind.

The Dark Lord shook the Harry fiercely and he cried out again his hand wrapped round the hair at the base in a feeble attempt to stop it being ripped out, this time the Dark Lord did not intercept.

"What did I tell you about holding your TONGUE?" He hissed at him.

"I'm sorry!" He sobbed, his toes curling in his agony. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry... what?" Was the hissed retort in his ear.

"I'm sorry My Lord! I'm sorry! Please... My Lord!" Tears rolled down his cheeks and his eyes had become tiny and swollen from the amount of pressure that has to accumulate behind his eyes.

Voldemort's own eyes rolled in pleasure- this was _pleasure_, this was _power_. He allowed himself a contented low hiss. Harry shuddered from the influence and pressure from the curse scar at the sound of the serpent like sound and became limp.

"_Better Harry... much better._" He hissed softly, and enjoyed the sight of many of his servants flinching at the smooth yet slight guttural sound of snake language emerging from his human mouth.

Harry once again under the strain of the pain seemed to be falling unconscious, however slurred an incomprehensible hiss back.

"_Hush hush little one. I will escort you to your new lodgings._" Still with a tight fistful of Harry's hair the Dark Lord dragged him bodily away from the gathering. The few that lingered in the corridors soon saw the Dark Lord take the boy to the inner circle chambers – where any member of the inner circle could stay. It had had its uses during the war when their houses had been raided on suspicion of harbouring illegal items in accordance to the old ministry. Usually they had to go into hiding under the Dark Lord's wing as the evidence in their homes was damning.

Those who saw this ran with the news of this development to whoever would listen. For it seemed that the newest, less than pure blooded wizard who did not have an ounce of respect was 1) a parselmouth and 2) somewhat special in the eyes of the Dark Lord.

As soon as the ornate doors had closed behind them, Voldemort had let go of Harry's hair and caught him under his arms. Harry groaned, but it came out still as a hiss, his tiredness making him return to the language that he was born to – well Voldemort was born to and Harry due to the piece of soul he harboured, the language that did not truly need to be learned, it flowed through the system like instinct. Harry's scar had become once again red and inflamed, a little blood flowed from the wound and the Dark Lord wiped it away with a part of Harry's oversized shirt.

His hand hovered over the scar, feeling the connection he had unwillingly created, but yet did not regret, he had made an opportunity and he was most certainly going to exploit it.

The theory of developing a horcrux was considered dangerous when Voldemort first discovered the word in the Hogwarts library, the worst of the worst things you could possibly do to yourself and the darkest of the dark arts. So of course gathering information on them was difficult, and how to make one was impossible, if there were any records still surviving to go inquiring would draw unnecessary attention.

But he was not Tom Riddle for nothing and slowly was able to draw enough information and applied magical theory to the concept of ripping your soul apart, he managed to figure out how to make a horcrux. However, he changed the practical application, along with several aspects of the whole ritual so that his soul would not completely detach – to do so would cause insanity. He would not be a worthy Dark Lord if he became predictable and unstable. So by changing a few wand movements and words he was able to stretch his soul so that a part of it was attached to a solid object, whilst still being with him, therefore if his body died, all his soul would automatically travel to the object. Having more than one meant he could go to any number of them, and still remain sane and intact.

He could feel the objects if he so wanted, and could feel Harry, the tug on the anchoring point of this world brushing the edge of his consciousness. He looked at the blood stain on Harry's shirt from the scar.

"_We will have to sort that out will we not Harry?_" Voldemort asked as he effortlessly placed Harry on a large bed.

There was another hiss in return this time drowsy. Harry turned slightly his worn out body slumping onto his stomach easily.

"_Sleep Harry._" Was all Voldemort murmured brushing Harry's hair away from his forehead and looking at the scar when Harry pitifully moaned.

"_Hush Harry. I will make it stop hurting soon, no more pain for what belongs to me._" He whispered silkily as he ran his finger down Harry's cheek allowing the nail to scrape the skin slightly enjoying the way Harry slurred another hiss trying to feebly bat away the offending hand. The Dark Lord looked down at the brand that was on Harry's arm. _His brand, his property, his ownership over the young and magically powerful parselmouth. _

He had a theory which might stop Harry's scar harming him in the close proximity he would like to form between them in the future, Harry being a pure soul was in constant contact with a dark soul – splintered, mutilated to a certain extent, which would harm the weaker of the two. Pure often meant ignorance in a sense, and Voldemort being less pure and older had the advantage of not being on the receiving end of the pain as one soul tried to repress the other. If Harry were to use the dark arts, the pain level should be lowered to a more tolerable concentration, and that he felt would be a good enough reason for Harry to do so, Voldemort would keep his ulterior motives to himself until Harry was more accepting and absorbed in the dark.

He ran the very tip of his finger down the body of the snake. "_Take good care of him._" He told it. Although not verbally responding it stilled in its movements briefly and then carried on in a slower yet leisurely pace.

As he locked the door behind him, he had a sudden thought and headed to the chair of snakes – one little snake could have a few days away from duty as he did seem to have taken a shine to Harry after all.

Harry was dreaming, he had to be, unless it was a memory of some sort. She was wearing the clothes she had been on the day she died – it was the early morning, the sun laying low in the sky, the shadows tall and long. He was approaching the tiny breakfast table, which was well worn; the oak although good quality was rough and unsightly.

His Mother looked up at him, her pensive faced breaking into a brilliant smile, she got up and hugged him tightly, kissing his dirt smudged cheeks laughing. She gestured to the seat that was next to hers at the table, and Harry found himself sitting down with her. She took a sip from her cup and placed it on the table, licking her lips languidly. Although conversation was lacking between the two, Harry was perfectly content with just enjoying his Mother's company.

His mother sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a coffee cup, the tips of her fingers tracing the handle "You do know I love you – don't you?"

Instead of laughing and saying "Of course I know – I love you too. Why did you say it though?" Like he used to, he found himself saying in this dream – for it could not be a memory now.

"I'm... not ready to let go yet." He saw his own hand grab her forearm, he saw her eyes soften, and she placed her small hand over his, and squeezed gently "It's okay, Harry, my darling. I will only let go when you can stand on your feet." He felt himself nodding, and trembling from the onslaught if tears that wanted to break free of his eyes.

She smiled, and wiped them away, "No tears Harry, I am still here, I won't leave you yet." She pushed the cup away from her and cupped his face leaning forward and kissing his forehead. He woke with a loud gasp, in a cold sweat, but his scar tingling as though his Mother's kiss in the dream had actually happened. He placed his hand over it, relishing the feeling that his mother had been there, however fake it had been.

"_The Dark Lord recommends you have a shower – and I can't help but agree._" Harry startled and stared at the little snake, but recovered quickly and nodded, getting up he went to the open door where a shower was in clear view – tears were hard to distinguish from water droplets.

Rose rested most of the day, drifting in and out of sleep, her muscles dully aching at being cramped up for so long, however when dusk arrived and Harry had not returned, Rose began to worry, and started becoming tense. That was until Snape had come along, opened her cage and ordered her to follow him. He had sat her at a table and ordered her to eat the food provided, whilst he collected up some potions to heal her hands, and build up her energy.

"Where is Harry?" She asked finally, unable to hold it any longer, as she stared at the indistinguishable man.

"He is safe – that is all you need to know."

She looked at him angry and displeased, but soon turned her attention back to the meal in front of her, and bypassing the fork, picked up the food with her long fingers, scooping up the meat and potatoes as quickly as she could, stuffing them in her mouth, chewing once or twice before swallowing.

Snape sneered heavily, before, placing his index finger on the fork and sliding it across to her, putting it in her peripheral vision, she turned to it and then looked at him in confusion.

"Use it." Was all he said, she sighed and rolled her eyes, she looked at her grease covered fingers, coated in the juices of red meat and buttered potatoes, before licking them briefly and drying them on her white top, leaving a clear, yellowy mark. Snape, feeling rather sick, saw her pick up the fork, and turned around, sorting out the potions she would need on the davenport.

The door opened and Bellatrix stepped inside, and waited impatiently for Snape to finish with the muggle.

Bella was dressed ready for her muggle hunting, she watched the two, as Snape gave her the potions she would need and the muggle took them – her plate shoved to the side.

When Snape looked in her direction, she couldn't help but to give him a shark grin, he looked her up and down taking in the amount of wands that were placed on her person.

"My, my Bella, have we become incompetent with your original wand that you now need to use others to try and compensate for your lack of magical fortitude?" He asked, as he once again turned to the potion vials on the side.

She laughed falsely, enjoying the brittle sound. "Yes, perhaps, but one has to wonder why a man like yourself who is _so_ _talented_ with magic, focuses completely on potions. I often wondered if it was because you are such a lonely man that you have had such adequate need for your wrist that it can now endure the endless stirring needed in potion making."

Rose felt the colour drain out of her face in shock at the bold statement, and bent her head, biting the innards of her cheeks trying to stop the laughter that was exploding on the inside.

"Yes, then again, I suppose your husband would understand the need of a flexible wrist, after all you hardly ever warm his bed, you prefer to skulk outside the Dark Lord's chambers like a lonely bitch in heat."

Rose, whose colour had previously gone ashen, could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and face, as she tried to reign in her giggles.

There was an angry shriek, and in a terrible attempt at a clam voice Bellatrix spoke once again. "I merely wish to serve My Lord in any way possible Severus, unlike you, I am not sent to the dungeons, where your dirty blood belongs. Are you finished with the muggle? The Dark Lord wishes her presence."

Snape just smirked and gestured flippantly with his hand in a take her gesture, before slipping in innocently "Reduced to an escort Bella – my, we are slipping in the Dark Lord's view."

Bella screamed, and fired a dark curse, which missed by several inches. "I wouldn't do that Bella, is that not what reduced you to this in the first place?" Snaped scolded, his voice laced with malicious mirth. Rose left the room quickly, and when Bella emerged, face blotchy and red, followed her in silence, and kept her head down.

Rose let the calm floating feeling settle over her, and let the Dark Lord's influence control her, she could feel herself moving but knew she did not do that herself, there was an unnatural feeling of euphoria and she did not feel inclined to leave this little haven she had suddenly been given.

She was too busy revelling in this euphoric feeling to notice that she had been lead away, given back all her weapons and apparated to a few streets away from the vigilantes' base, in a slight daze of unawareness she approached the base, and she slowly came back into full focus.

It was for a moment she realised that the control that had been forced on her was only lingering in the background, lurking in the corners of her mind as she progressed towards the temporary base that the muggle vigilantes had occupied. It worried her slightly that the guilt she felt was minimal, her loyalty was to Harry and Harry alone, although she would make their deaths as painless and quick as possible – although death was painful and lacked dignity. It was sad she mused how now she didn't care who she killed, and she even grew to quite enjoy the bloodshed that came with fighting.

She entered the small room, and saw many assembled, all ready to go as the plan had been told the day before – which in the scheme of things had not been the brightest idea – that had been Ricky's idea, it gave her a reason not to feel guilty for what she was going to do to him. It was after all the cause if this all really, if he hadn't told them the plan that little portly wizard rat hybrid wouldn't have had any reason to tell his Lord about them...yet.

When they saw her, they all jumped up grinning, bouncing on the balls of their feet, she laughed slightly, and nodded, regarding them rather warmly as they left through the door in a chaotic fashion. She held out her arm, and one man bumped into it – he looked at her amusedly, in a dry manner.

"A minute, Ricky." She whispered and walked further into the little stone bunker, sitting on her crate, basking in the familiarity for a brief moment, as she waited for the room to be completely empty to be able to kill her right hand.

She stood quickly and upturned the crate, picking up some addition knifes and a couple of hat pins she had acquired, she placed them in free places upon her body, but kept a pin out.

"Come here." She heard herself saying, a breathless whisper in the stale air, as she turned the shiny silver an elaborate pin in her fingers, the tips of her fingers tingling with the chill of the metal.

She listened carefully, trying to control the rate of her breathing as she heard his footsteps approaching, he stopped behind her, she turned around so fast, and tried to stab him in the ear canal with it. For some reason, he must have suspected her treachery, for he dodged and punched her in the stomach, knocking the air out of her, she doubled over falling on to her face as she curled up foetal like trying to control her breathing, the pin falling to the ground as she let it go.

Grabbing the nearest knife she stabbed him in the ankle, twisting it in the wound. He cried out and dropped on one knee, gasping in shock and agony, using his shock to her advantage, she got up, and wrapped an arm around her stomach. Leaning over she snatched up the pin, and rammed it up his nose, using her lower height to her advantage in a moment of desperation. At the same moment he struck out with a knife of his own cutting along her arm, she hissed, blood pooling out of the wound. There was a loud squelch, and Ricky's eyes rolled backwards, his jaw hanging down, and he fell backwards, a dull thump, his foot twitching slightly, she got up and checked his pulse, finding no evidence of it she withdrew and to make sure he did not survive anyhow and to be on the safe side, she raised her foot and brought down the heel exceedingly fast and hard. Hearing his skull crack under her weight, she grabbed the pin and viciously ripped it out, and cleaned it on the corpses clothes.

The was a startled exclamation of shock, she turned around and saw a young man – Martin, she thought his name was.

"Martin!" She spoke urgently, taking a step towards the scared man; he backed away, and ran from the room. Cursing loudly, Rose followed him, she saw him shake another man and point at her, his face pasted with hysteria. The other man's face held confusion before it morphed into anger, and he started to run towards her, wielding nothing but his fists. Meeting each other halfway, she moved away from his balled hands.

Getting as close as she could, she drew her knife across his face, enjoying the soft sound of cutting flesh and the splattered blood that drew a line across her face as it spurted from the open wound. He gasped at the sudden burn from the blade, but as he stopped his attack in shock, she quickly slashed the knife again, straight across his throat. He let out a gurgle and the blood burst out at her in sudden fury and venomously, before running down his pale gullet and onto his dirty shirt. She wiped her face clean with the back of her hand, before moving on to the next opponent, a malicious joy and lust that was not quite her own fuelling the attack as it's joy spread from the corners where the Dark Lord's will steered her.

A smile started to form on her face, her lips pulling back to expose her teeth, in a large rectangle leer, that pulled at her chapped lips, cracking and stretching the skin.

The woman in front of her watched her carefully, before her eyebrows rose and a shocked expression settled on the focussed woman.

"IT'S NOT HER!" She yelled urgently, turning away and running. "IT'S NOT ROSE!"

A laugh escaped her, a high pitched hiss, she raised her arm and as she swung it forward let the knife slip from her nimble fingers, it sunk deep into the girls back, and blood trailed from the wound, emerging around the edges of the embedded weapon.

Rose understood that she was now fighting the Dark Lord for dominance, she could feel his enjoyment threw the one way link she temporary link she had with him.

She supposed, the violence that muggles participated in, the only way they knew was the dirty, blood splattered, dirt covered fights. It was a form of brutality that Dark Lord's could not use, it would be looked down upon, and the Dark Lord who apparently had been raised in an orphanage, would know and understand it, maybe even miss it as this is what he had been raised with. So, he used her to use this form of fun for himself – but damn him to hell! Dark Lord or not this was her time!

She ran to the fallen form, and ripped put the knife, indulging in the squelching sound as the knife slide from its temporary sheath. She spotted her next target, and took note of the dark figures emerging from the shadows, and realised she was running out of time. She sprinted as quickly as she could, he must have heard her heavy footfalls as he turned round as she approached and tried to strike her. She bent backwards, the fist with and knife enclosed in it brushing the air above her, a mockery of the Wolverine she thought. Raising a leg, she kicked his elbow, sending spasms of pain down his arm, causing him to drop the knife as his fist opened in surprise. She caught the knife that fell from his hand, as it had still been above her face. She stood up quickly, and took advantage of his shock.

She punched him hard in the face taking a great thrill out of hearing the bones bend before splintering under her brutal hands. The bone pierced the flesh and broke through the several layers. As bone breeched the surface of the skin the blood sprayed out and coated her hand, each knuckle pasted with the slick slivery red substance. The man fell backwards clutching his face as he rolled over let out muffled moans of pain.

Rose did not stop to finish of the man instead moved to the next fighter, flipping a knife out of her enclosed fist towards the man's jugular, it sailed through the air, spinning like a drill might, a blur of silver across the night like a shooting star. He was a lot quicker than the first as he quickly leant to the side the knife grazing his collar bone as it flew behind him, there was a small flap of skin spliced that remained clean for a few moments before flooding with blood. She snarled at him and charged at him, tackling him to the ground before ruthlessly using her fists to try and make his face become concave – however she settled for making the majority of his face blue with the instant bruising. Large prints of her knuckles where placed coordinated places as she welded his cheek to her bloodied fist. She got up again and noticed how the Death Eaters had circled the rest of them, wands pointed at all of them – including some of the younger kids that were there. She watched them warily, for she had no proof that she was with them if the Dark Lord did not come to this raid or if he simply wanted her disposed of. Despite it all she did not want to die, mortal instincts ruled her and it fought to _live_, to _survive_.

Suddenly there was an arm around her torso restricting her movements with the constricting cement strength and her knife placed at her throat with a free hand, and abnormally long fingers were wrapped around the black hilt. She stiffened, her breath being sucked in sharply, the Dark Lord chuckled deeply, it vibrated through her causing her spin and ribs to tingle. She leaned back into the Dark Lord's chest trying to escape the lethal weapon. She raised her hand and placed her fingers around the blade and tried to pull it away. The Dark Lord tisked, and brought the blade closer making sure it dug into her skin. She felt a bead of blood trickle down her skin before settling in the hollow of her throat. She instantly removed her hand as though she had been burned. There was a slight stirring in her wrist, there seemed to be something underneath wriggling stretching the skin tautly before there was a sudden blinding pain as the snake which had been previously hidden underneath her flesh burst out. She grunted in pain at it as the ripped tissue stung and pulsed with pain. She stilled when the knife pressed just under her chin.

"Well done Rose." The Dark Lord complimented, before releasing her and offering her knife back hilt first, slowly she extended her hand and took the knife back before getting on to her knees and lowering her head. He patted it as though she was an animal, as though she might lean in to it; try to get him to scratch behind her ears. She grimaced at the thought, but endured the petting, as the long curls wrapped around his fingers...like tiny little serpents.

"Well, it seems we have caught you all now. One of the most active and successful vigilante muggle groups in England..." He chuckled lightly "...in my hands." He carried on petting Rose's wild hair.

"It just keeps getting better and better." He smirked and released her as he walked to the fallen muggles. He looked down at the unconscious man whose face was mutilated by Rose, he turned to her bemusedly before broaching a question that drew many laughs from his inner circle "Suffering from frustration Rose?"

She merely scowled.

"Gather those who are alive up!" The Dark Lord turned to the formation of wizards "Any that try to escape become free game!" There was a wave of small cheers that spread through the crowd.

The Dark Mark was sent up into the sky, Rose watched it for a minute before looking down and playing with the hem of her shirt, and staring at the blood stained ground, until someone approached.

Rose looked up and immediately looked down again. "My Lord?" She asked nervously, he seemed content, she thought bitterly as he stroked her hair once again.

"Well, my dear, dear muggle – you have kept your side of our little agreement, I suppose I should fulfil mine." He spoke, he reached down and grabbed the ends of her hair, she gasped, her blood soaked hands clasping his trying to pry his fingers loose. He smiled cheerily before apparating them both.

They appeared in a basic room, with basic furniture scattered around it, including a wardrobe, there was a steel door set in one wall, with a small window in it – like a prison cell.

He dropped her on the floor, she lay there gasping for a few moments, struggling with the effects of apparition and the indignity of laying there vulnerably. The Dark Lord regarded her amusedly.

"This is your room – it has a bathroom – I might suggest using it, your door will be unlocked all day – you will be back here by 9 every evening where you will be locked in for the night." He crouched down next to her fallen form. "I am being extremely lenient with you Rose, give me _any_ reason to rein you in and I will – perhaps a cage that will make you sit with your knees around your ears hmm? Do not disappoint me, muggle." He ran his finger down the side of her face – collecting the blood on his finger, he wiped it on her shirt.

"Thank you, My Lord. I won't, My Lord." She rasped, still massaging her scalp.

"I'm glad you are learning your place, muggle. I feel we will get on better when you do." He spoke smiling at her, his hair falling across his face, he pushed it back, showing his angelic face. He got up and walked towards the door.

"Harry! Where's Harry!" She rasped out urgently, pushing herself to sit up.

"I do not believe that is any concern of a muggle." He said coldly smiling. He must have been feeling indulgent with the small victory that happened that night as he said. "You will see him soon enough." He opened the door and left. "Night!" He called softly and smugly as the door closed and locked it behind him.

**A/N – Review please? Was my magical theory ok? Please let me know? I always was disappointed with the canon Voldemort – he was supposed to be a genius – mad, but brilliant... and he was just crap. **

**Let me know if some characters are right or wrong – Harry I feel is not right in this chapter – less stubborn, but I think it is better when Harry knows his limits. I always felt he was irritating to the point of stupid in canon.**

**Without sounding cliché – your opinion matters to me, so I'm wondering whether to kill of Rose? I think her death is inevitable at the end anyway, but sooner or later? I don't want her to dominate the story or become a Mary-Sue etc. So let me know, yeah? **

**Anyway – I now find myself lost – I have no idea where I am going with this story to be honest – Harry will be going to Hogwarts – so let me know the house you think he should go in. Voldemort only thinks him Gryffindor due to his morals, so... any house is likely. **

**Also any ideas of some kind of plot I can run with? Any ideas would of course be credited to you and acknowledged, but I have no clue where I am going with this. :( **

**Please review this incredibly boring chapter! :~)**


	5. Seventh Piece Chained

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Seventh Piece Chained**

He rubbed the towel roughly on his scalp, drying the thick strands of black hair clumped together by water that were pressed against his forehead. Running his fingers through the short locks as droplets flung from the tips, Harry threw the fluffy towel on the floor not noticing as it made contact with the wood wetly and water instantly started to pool from it. He rolled up his old clothes, grimacing at the brownish stain of blood from his scar on it and the dusty brown dirt stains scattered along the hem and back of it. There was a light yellow stain on the collar too, from his sweaty neck in the hot summer; of course he did not have the luxury of having a change of clothes every day.

He made use of the conveniently placed clothes on the edge of the bed that happened to be his size, apart from the robe which he dropped to the floor and violently kicked under the bed, scowling at it in his unjustified anger. His thoughts were slow and sluggish, and yet they seemed unable to stop moving, each issue slipping through his imaginary net.

He paced around the room agitatedly; his hands fisted either side of his head as he hunched his shoulders, the frustration building up like a heavy stone in his stomach, the pressure on the back of his neck like a broad thumb. It was uncomfortable; he could feel a... tautness in his throat and a restlessness in his bones. He shook his shoulders trying to loosen the irritating and attention demanding feeling. He scrunched his eyes shut and bowed his head as a low groan came out of his throat.

He suddenly yelled his face contorting angrily as he violently swung his foot into the elegant feet of an arm chair. The chair groaned as it was pushed across the floor and Harry grimaced at the pain in his toes, but he stamped the aching foot in the ground and yelled in pain and anger again.

He tilted his head up, and slowly breathed out, his coiled hands slowly unfurling as he did so, and he let his hands fall to his sides. His leg shook repetitively as he tried to calm himself, to ride out the temper tantrum without making more of a fool of himself.

He sat down on the chest at the end of his bed, his spine curved as he slouched, and rubbed the dark mark slowly; attempting to sooth the slight irritation it was causing him. A choked sound came from his throat, and he rocked on the balls of his feet, he rubbed his hand down the length of his face as he felt the tightness of his mouth and the build up of tears behind his eyeballs, the pressure burning and pushing his eyes. He applied pressure to his lids with the tips of his fingers as he bowed his head, his chin pressed against his chest. For a long time he sat like that rocking and comforting himself as best as he could. He looked up at the window, and saw that it was dark out – the night sky was black, and the candles were lit, he looked around, having not realised the amount of time he had lost.

"_Hello?_" An irritated voice sounded from down to his right. Harry turned sharply, and saw the little snake from the other day glaring at him, an expression of indignant rebuffed pride.

"_Er... sorry, how long have you been there?_" He asked confusedly, his breath shaky.

"_HOURS!_" It shrieked, its head rearing angrily.

"_Oh, I'm... yeah..._" Harry rubbed his forehead, frowning as he tried to remember "_Um... yeah. I'm ...sorry about that._" He finally managed.

The snake huffed, but wrapped itself around Harry's arm as he braced it against the bed, to rub sharply the burning brand on the embodied thick covers. He bared his teeth at the feeling, and almost growled at the thing.

"_I wouldn't do that if I were you – you might infect it._" The snake advised as it circled his arm continually, slopping down until its body completely covered the mark. The body of the snake being cooler than the raw skin made Harry sigh pleasantly, as it provided a bit of relief from the consistent reminder of it being there.

With the coolness of the snake on the brand, Harry felt his eyes closing again, so he rose and lay on the bed, on the side that he hadn't before and he placed the brand and the snake on the cool sheets. The snake seemed to have given up on conversation, and had decided to close its eyes and settled to sleep on his wrist, while Harry hung on the edge of consciousness as his eyes remained half lidded. The candles flames dimmed, giving the room a cool and relaxing feel, easing Harry into a light slumber.

It was when the Dark Lord entered the room that Harry woke from his light dose, and his eyes focussed on the dark figure that bore a smug smirk on his handsome face. Harry's whole body tensed at the sight of the man, the loose muscles coiling tightly as his wariness increased.

"_Evening Harry – did you rest well?_" He asked casually, looking with bemusement at the messy trail Harry had left in his wake. Eyeing the puddle of water that had formed around the towel and the rug that had started to absorb the water, he waved his hand and the towel and water disappeared, the rug drying quickly and leaving no trace that there ever had been anything there.

Remembering that he was supposed to answer, he averted his eyes to his lap and responded in controlled English. "Very...well, My...Lord." He rolled his tongue around in his mouth trying to coax the feeling of speaking properly into it.

"_Hmm, that is good then._" He saw the Dark Lord take a seat by the fire, his long fingers wrapping around the arm of the green velvet chair.

"_Harry, I came here to address the fact that you and Bellatrix undoubtedly do not see eye to eye – so much so that she cannot teach and you cannot learn. So, due to these circumstances ... I will teach you what you need to know._" His faced the fire, but he turned his head ever so slightly, as he heard Harry stir.

"_What? Why?_" Harry burst out, his desire to remain in English lost with his control, colour flushing his cheeks, as he stared dismayed at the imposing figure in the chair.

"Mr Potter – do not question me. I, as your Lord can do as I wish – it is not your place to object. _I do believe we went over this earlier – unless you would like the lesson to be repeated?_"

"_NO! ...Uh, no My Lord! I did not mean anything by it. I just...um, nothing. I'm sorry._" Harry pressed his hands to his face, breathing deeply through compressed lips, his legs folding up to his chin. He stifled the angry and frustrated groan that was wriggling in his chest; he bit his lips, his eyes shut as the pressure of his knee caps was pressed against them.

"Honestly Harry, you haven't even enquired how tonight went – not even about your beloved Rose." Voldemort spoke chidingly from besides the fire, his shadow flickering menacingly on the far wall, the exaggerated monstrous form hunched over guarding its treasures lovingly, echoing the man leaning forward in his chair and watching his horcrux with possessive eyes.

"How did it go, My Lord?" Harry asked hoarsely, turning his head to face the man, the side of his head resting against his legs.  
"It went well. Very well indeed." He spoke softly, with a proud smile gracing his features. Suddenly he sat forward clasping his hands together in his lap, his face a blank canvas "Tomorrow we shall venture out to Diagon Alley, you shall need a wand for what I wish to teach you."

"Diagon Alley?" Harry asked, he shuffled to the edge of the bed, ruining the smooth quilt by rippling it as he flung his feet to the floor and paid attention to the figure looking bemused in the armchair.

"Yes. I presume your..._mother_ told you about it." He sneered heavily when mentioning his mother as though catching a taste in the air that was most foul.

"Yeah – she talked about it. How...how am I going to pay for it?" He frowned – he knew the Potter's had a vault but after eighteen years of no activity within the wizarding world he wondered whether they would give him access.

"A wand is no great deal of money – and later in the year you will be attending Hogwarts – if of course you improve enough in time for the new school year – so you will get money from your vault then. As for tomorrow I will pay for your wand, and it will remain with me until I feel you are secure enough here not to do anything...stupid."

Harry volleyed between delight and sulkiness – Hogwarts sounded like a dream, after his mother had told many tales from being in the magical school. However, the bastard in the chair had decided that he would be keeping his wand, and although he hadn't even touched the undecided wand he felt possessiveness towards the carved wooden stick. He only nodded though, his lips curling at the corners and as he spoke the bubble of happiness made his voice waver slightly "Thank you, My Lord!"

Voldemort seemed genuinely happy with his suppressed excitement, he stood gracefully and moved towards the door. "Be up and ready to leave by nine in the morning. I shall come here at exactly nine. Do not be late. I hate to wait – and it will be you who will feel the brunt of my impatience."

He closed the door behind him, just as Harry said "Of course, My Lord."

The morning came very quickly, and soon Harry was sitting in his room, waiting for the Dark Lord to arrive. It was 8:55 and the slow steady ticking made Harry's heartbeat seem exceedingly fast.

The door opened at nine, the Dark Lord walked in and saw Harry ready and waiting to go in a chair, looking an odd shade of grey.

"Come along Harry." He said and gestured with a long pale hand to the open door. Harry got up and walked quickly behind the Dark Lord as he led the boy through the lavishly furnished upper section of his own fortress. Harry knew that below there was only cold grey metal and stone – where those who weren't considered worthy were detained. He himself was lead down a grand wooden staircase, with the middle carpeted in a bright crimson red that complemented the mahogany carved details on the banisters. When reaching the entrance hall of the magical world's exit from the Dark Lord's home, just before the doors, the tall man stopped.

The Dark Lord pulled up Harry's and his own hood "We will be entering Diagon Alley straight away – this door leads straight to the middle of it. It used to be a lawyer's office before I acquired it."

_Yes,_ Harry thought _I can bet how you acquired it too._

He opened the door, to reveal the royal blue outside of it with a large lion's head on the door with a brass knocker grasped in its mouth. _An expensive lawyer then_, Harry thought as the Dark Lord grabbed his arm and started to manoeuvre him through the crowd.

They came up to an old shop with peeling paint with the name Ollivanders on it, Harry looked at it through sceptical eyes, as he tried to look through the grubby windows. Voldemort pushed him towards the door, and Harry dubiously opened it, the bell ringing loudly somewhere deep in the cavern of the wand shop. Harry looked around in amazement at all the wands stacked impressively around the room.

A hunched man walked towards the desk, his bright pale eyes alight in his face. "My Lord." He spoke quickly and impatiently as he bowed, before turning to Harry and watching him with interest. "Mr Potter – I thought you were a bit overdue."

Harry blinked. "Most people in the wizarding world thought I was dead." He said, a look of confusion crossing his features.

Ollivander only smiled wider and pulled a tape measure from his pocket. He let it loose from his fingers and it floated towards Harry. "Hold out your wand arm, Mr Potter."

Harry wasn't exactly sure what that was, but he went with his dominant hand, and he stuck out the mentioned limb to his side. The tape measure measured his arm, and danced around him measuring other parts of his body that he wasn't sure was actually necessary for his wand, his nose, feet and width of his head. He pulled it off his face, where it was held tightly enough to compress his nose and dropped it to the floor where it lay lifeless.

Ollivander came back to the desk and placed a dusty long narrow box in front of Harry, his bony fingers reaching out to lift of the lid until he was rudely interrupted when the Dark Lord's shadow fell over them both from behind Harry.  
"Try the other wand." He spoke, using his own to nudge the box on the desk away from him towards Ollivander as though its presence offended him. "You know which wand I mean." He cut the old man off as he opened his mouth. He looked rather put out, but bowed at the waist and snatched up the box before disappearing into the darkness of the shelves. The Dark Lord ignored Harry's confused gaze, as he turned around and drifted towards the window. A few minutes later Ollivander reappeared with a dull faded box that bore the evidence that the dust had been swiped off it quickly.

"My Lord? How can you be sure?" He asked, he seemed ever so slightly angry but presented it respectfully.  
"Do not question me Ollivander – I just believe that it will be so."

Ollivander pulled the lid of the box and carefully removed the wand. "Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches. Nice and supple." He said, offering the handle towards Harry. He watched him carefully and he looked fearful of what would happen.

When Harry took to the wand in his hand there was a sudden rush of euphoria, the wand tip glowing a bright white and a wind swirling the dusty air of the shop around him.

Ollivander looked pleased with the reaction but his face held a gravity that hadn't been there before this wand was mentioned. The Dark Lord seemed smug and pleased as he waltzed over to Harry, leaning over his shoulder and plucked the wand out of Harry's hand. "Very good." He purred happily, as he fondled the thin piece of wood almost lovingly. "And how much are you owed Ollivander?" He enquired, as he pulled out his own again and compared the two pursing his lips at the pair. He put Harry's wand in the box as his was placed back into his robes.

"Nothing from you, My Lord or your companion." The old man placed the lid back on the box before pushing it towards them, bowing and disappearing into the shadows again without another word.

Harry looked at the Dark Lord as the man hid the box in his inner robe pocket "What was that about?" He asked, his eyes still fixed on the place where he had seen his wand disappear.

"None of your business Mr Potter." He said, smiling contentedly. "I shall look after this, I hope you don't mind?" It wasn't a question though, more like teasing him by reminding him of their earlier conversation. However Harry answered dutifully.

"Of course not, thank you, My Lord." He said grudgingly as he was stirred out of the small stuffy shop on to the busy street of Diagon Alley where the Dark Lord brought him back to his gilded cage.

One week later –

"No, no, no Harry!" Voldemort smiled, it seemed genuine enough as he came over and unhooked Harry's hand from the wand, and replaced the limb properly on the handle. "Loosen your hold. Honestly Harry it is your wand, you control the power flow. You are like a first year – a common mistake." He smiled tightly, before grimacing a bit. "However you have time to catch up on." He grabbed Harry's shoulders gently, and turned his body to the target. "Relax, there is no pressure!" He pinched the boy's taunt shoulders until they loosened, and took Harry's wrist in his long fingers before twisting the boy's hand in the correct wand movement. "Loosen your wrist Harry," He spoke softly, he twisted the arm again and nodded in approval of the flexibility.

"Right, now the spell." He encouraged, letting go of Harry's arm, gesturing with his long fingers for him to do so.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry shouted, trying to force the magic out of him, a scarlet light flew out of the wand fiercely slamming into the target and splintering wood. Harry was pushed violently backwards hitting Voldemort's chest. He staggered slightly, but Voldemort's arm came under his arms and across his torso supporting him.

He let Harry get his balance again before letting go, he laughed loudly a healthy flush donning his cheeks as he rubbed his chest as though bruised.

"Harry," He wheezed "I know I told you that if a wizard or witch didn't learn to use a wand and channel their magic before a certain age then they would not be able to at all – but I also told you that you are not at that age! You don't need to... do that. That is amazing, but as I said you do not need that much force!" However he was internally delighted, crowing with victory – power like that put in an unforgivable... he could rip through great cliff faces, and all his. Harry also seemed to enjoy the lessons, being responsive to his teachings and able to recall facts easily enough. There was still distrust but the boy was slowly thawing towards him.

A perfect horcrux, with such power... Voldemort had only ever felt proud of himself and now was no different, however he felt a pride for his soul's host. He smiled at the flush that spread across Harry's face as he looked down at his shoes. Voldemort fixed the splintered target and said "Again Harry, and this time do not push yourself too hard."

Three days later –

"Harry, I need you to use an unforgivable." The Dark Lord said as he walked around the chair in which Harry sat.  
"W..w...what?" Harry stuttered, looking up at the Dark Lord in fear.

"Mr Potter – I will not be repeating myself – you have had half of the pain relievers in my potion store. Poor Snape cannot put them on the shelves before your removing them. I have a theory to stop the pain. Use the dark arts," He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled slightly at Harry's expression "Ahh, Harry! Don't look so scandalised! It need only be done once, and hopefully that should at least ease the pain." He smiled deviously at the slowly hardening resolve in Harry's face – he would say no and stubbornly stick to it, which was displeasing, yet endearing. He ought to treat this horcrux with the same tolerance he gave Nagini, even though his fingers curled around the air where his wand should be.

"Harry – you will do this when you're ready, but from now on you will not be allowed any pain reliving potions. They are addictive – I won't have any servant of mine dependent on any substance."

_Yes, apart from your presence, praise and you in general of course._ Harry thought, he could feel his expression souring more and more.

"Tell me Harry... I confess myself curious, why do you think the killing curse is an unforgiveable?" He walked towards the bookcases, and ran his fingers across the spines on one of the lower shelves. "Why do you think Harry? Let me see how clever you are. Or perhaps, how ignorant you are." He casually leant on the shelves and watch the boy, he squirmed slightly under the hawk like gaze.

"It's dark." He offered feebly, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. Voldemort picked a book off the shelf and let the boy stew for a while until his feet started to move, crossing at the ankles and then back again. He looked up as Harry sniffed slightly and leant back.

"Hm" He chuckled mirthlessly making the boy jump. "It isn't just dark spells that can kill people. Anyone can be killed by other means – a severing curse, a cutting curse, even a heating charm can do _extraordinary fatal_ damage." He purred, he pushed the book gently back into its place on the shelf. "Come on, Harry, surely you _must_ know. I do not think it is so obvious that you would simply over look it – even if you're from the light."  
"You can only kill with the killing curse – that's why it's unforgivable!"

"Well done Harry, but you can of course use supposed _light_ magic to kill too."

"What's the point of this – you're trying to lure me to the dark. You're giving me tips on how to stay with the light."

Voldemort merely smiled. "Lure you Harry? Why would I attempt to do that?" He laughed airily. "So why Harry? Why do we define the difference when they are used for the same purpose?"

"Cutting curses can cut the noose that is choking someone you love, it can be used for light purposes too." Harry swallowed thickly, very conscious of the Dark Lord's presence that circled his chair. "The killing curse can only kill."

"However, it is painless, a mercy kill Harry." Voldemort was behind him, and placed his hands on either side of his head. "Would you rather use a light curse, one that would make the death drawn out. Would you like that person to have a slit throat, while they lay there on the floor their lungs slowly filling with blood?" He swapped to the other side of Harry's head. "Would you like them to choke slowly _ever so slowly_ to death as blood stains their teeth? What would you like that Harry? Would you like that when you could have said two words and there was no suffering, just as though they were going to sleep?" He felt the Dark Lord's breath ruffle his hair. So suddenly the world Harry knew ruptured, the seams ripped apart, the black and white not right, the puzzle didn't fit and he felt so disjointed. How could something so wrong seem...right? He remembered his mother's corpse lying on the floor tragically, her eyes open in her shock and her mouth parted to show her the bottom on her teeth on the upper jaw, but her cheeks still held the traces of the sun burn from the day before as she planted some petunias, her hands still were rough and calloused from her hard life and her hair had still been the vibrant red that her spirit had been, that her body racked with an unknown illness could not show. She hadn't looked well but she had looked no different than two hours previous.

And the world _shattered._

It was a dark, cramped room that made him feel suffocated and uncomfortable. Incense hung in the air making it hard to breathe; Harry coughed as he choked on the stale air. The Dark Lord walked through the thick atmosphere, waving his hand as though to rid himself of the clogging smell that filled his nose. He glanced back at Harry when he heard the hacking cough, his face showed only subtle curiosity, before once again turning around and walking further into the dark room. Harry hurried after him not wanting to get lost in the unnerving dark that the whole place was in. It was only the day previous that the Dark Lord had suggested the fact that the killing curse was merciful, and yet that was all Harry could think about. Today's 'lesson' had not continued on that subject, as he had been whisked away to this strange place.

They entered a larger space, a few orbs of misty light drifting lazily around as though caught in a breeze. The lights brightened when they entered the room, but the space remained shadowed and empty to Harry's eyes.

"Hello Matilda." The Dark Lord turned his head to the right looking into the shadowed corner where only the shadows seemed to dwindle, there was a deep, dark chuckle and the small hunched from of a person hobbled out into the small light provided by the hovering orb.

The little form leant heavily on an old warped cane. It appeared to be made from a tree stump or branch, it had garnered a greenish hue and was gnarled; it was of many pieces of wood wrapped around each other tightly, plaited together by nature herself and every time she leant on it, it creaked, the individual pieces of wood prized open revealing the scenery behind the large piece of wood. Harry regarded the little figure with unguarded awe, in a morbid fascination at the mutilated little being.

She suddenly looked up, and Harry jumped back in shock at the state of her face. Old and worn would be a polite way of saying what she looked like – a thousand lives that woman seemed to carry on her face, each wrinkle a century at least and a purse mouth that regarded Harry with amusement. Her large nose scrunched up at the sight of him and she took a large draw of breath through the bulbous thing. Harry felt his stomach roll at the sight of her, being in the same room as her and breathing the same air as her made him want to be violently ill, he could feel his food trying to climb its way back up his throat, his gullet constricting as the hot liquid had to be swallowed again.

"You're not the first, boy." She laughed, it sounded aged as her face yet kinder than she could ever look with the amount of skin she had. Harry on the other hand flushed, biting his lip at being caught; he looked at his feet, focussing on a piece of dirt on his shoe.

The Dark Lord's eyes were boring into the side of his head and he did not want to look and see the anger there – he would be punished later most likely. The crone (for there was nothing else she could be) also looked at him, he could feel her inspecting eyes on him yet could not bear to actually meet either of their gazes.

"Look at me boy!" She snapped, and he looked up startled at her sharp demand, many voices of age and power seemed to emit from her vocal chords.

"Harry" She smiled at him exposing large red gums and black pointed teeth. He could feel his lip attempting to curl at the sight. Instead he spoke, so the movement of his lips could be disguised.

"How do you know my name?" He whispered, watching her as she came closer staggering, the old stick making an odd beat as she crossed the room on the thick carpet.

"Boy, I know many things, I feel your sorrow, the depth of it is almost overwhelming, your magic showers everyone with your despair. Poor child." She reached up an old hand, each vein snaking under the thin skin that was draped delicately over the skeletal frame that was her limb. Her surprisingly long arm came up to his cheek and cupped it. "And yet you do not release the pain, you old it close like the mother you have just lost."

He hissed withdrawing from the warmth her hand provided as though stung. He watched her in fear as she focussed on him as he shuffled away.

"How do you know that?" He asked, it came from his clenched teeth in a dangerous serpentine hiss, but his face betrayed his fearful and astonished feelings at her announcement.

"But my child, she is behind you, she protects you even now."

Voldemort scowled at Matilda, his eyes narrowing at a spot above Harry's left shoulder.

Harry looked behind himself at the empty space, before turning back to the crone just as quickly, panic across his features. "LIAR! There is nothing there." He squeaked in a hysterical squeal terrified of an invisible and nameless terror.

"Don't YOU dare call me a liar boy! I have seen countless ages go past, more than you will ever will! Do not suggest that I would lie to you when I have seen the age of the dragons! I have been sought by Merlin himself for guidance! I shall tell you this only once child – I am no liar!" The crone's height seemed to become larger in the second the word liar had slipped past Harry's lips, the room crackled with raw magic and _age._ Harry shuddered from the feeling of her age stroking his skin, how it brushed his hair away from his face like the wind would. A crone she looked though she was a wise woman, who was very powerful when she was young, her magic so strong that it stopped her body dying and kept her alive. Magic had got weaker in time, wands being conductors instead of magic being spun from wizards and witches fingers. As her height increased the wrinkles were pulled back, and a vision from her youth seemed to peer through, and perhaps she had been pretty once.

Matilda seemed to shrink once again, becoming the crone and looked at him in sympathy, all the wrinkles on her face echoing the shape of her mouth almost to her cheeks. "Child, I tell you now she stands behind you, she has her hands on your shoulders."

There seemed to be a cold tingling on Harry's shoulder he noticed in the shape of a pair of hands – a woman's; small and delicate. Harry felt sorrow settle in his stomach like a stone as he once again focussed on the crone. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to call you a liar. I... It's just..." He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, increasing the pressure on the closed lids to try and push back the tears. "It's just... hard... just hard to accept that... well...everything that has happened lately."

"Be at peace child. Now Tom? Why have you brought the boy here?"

"The boy has muggle in him. That does have its effects on magic. It's restrained him."

The crone looked at unwaveringly with beetle black eyes folded within her old weathered face.

"I can see his magic" She whispered "Little parts of it exhale with his every breath, much like your does Tom." She grinned showing all of her black teeth.

Voldemort grimaced at the name but said nothing – he couldn't teach wise women manners and they were unfortunately old enough to not have to speak with respect to those of power. They are equals to even the most powerful of men, even one of Voldemort's calibre.

"He however will struggle, some magic cannot be taught to those with dirty heritage. Muggle taints him." Voldemort watched her with cold calculating eyes, as she regarded Harry in much the same manner. She squinted at him, her eyes two dots of black in her haggard face before she burst out in a sudden exclamation.

She wailed and bowed at the waist withering in her displeasure. "His magic is crippled!"

Harry startled like a rabbit and watched her wide eyed as he rubbed his chest where his heart was currently trying to claw its way out of.

"Oh Merlin!" She whispered. "Have to clear that muggle blockage." She dropped the thick stick onto the floor and seemed to withdraw into herself deep in thought.

All of a sudden she seemed very animate, her form wobbling around on her uneven legs as she rushed about seeing things in the dark that Harry could not. The Dark Lord stretched, a couple of his joints cracking with the effort, before he conjured himself an arm chair and settling himself in it.

"Oh yes, Tom, make yourself at home why don't you?" She asked sarcastically, looking over her shoulder, her thick white hair obscuring her eyes.

"It can take time can it not?" He asked, making an extreme show of stretching out his legs. He smiled lazily, folding his hands in lap, another chair appeared next to his. "Harry sit." He ordered.

Harry shuffled back warily and sat down on the edge of the seat, watching the wise woman as she mixed some herbs together.

She poured the concoction into a goblet and handed it to Harry, who made no move to take it.

"Don't you worry yourself, poppet! You won't be physically altered; you won't lose those gorgeous emerald eyes of yours." She grasped his chin with her liver spot covered skeletal hand. She pressed the goblet into his hand and made sure he had a firm grasp of it. She let go and hummed cheerily as she rummaged through the cupboards once again.

He held the goblet in his hand dumbly for a moment before Voldemort told him to drink it – though it sounded like he was far away. Harry carried on looking at it, not even registering time passing or the Dark Lord's growing irritation.

His head was pulled back sharply, and his jaw forced open and the steaming beverage ran into his mouth. He gagged on the foul taste but a large hand cupped his chin and made sure to hold the jaws tightly together. He held the liquid in his mouth for a while, every time he tried to rid himself of it, it came back into his mouth. Voldemort made sure it didn't escape from between his lips either. Harry didn't want to swallow the concoction and every time he attempted to swallow he stopped himself before it went down his gullet.

"_Swallow it, Harry!_" The Dark Lord hissed angrily, Harry shook his head as much as he could with Voldemort's vice like grip around his head. There was and aggravated hiss from the Dark Lord.

Then he felt a hand run down his throat, in his shock and with the automatic encouraging action to help the reflex to swallow, he did so, the potion burning as it travelled down to his stomach. The hand wrapped in his hair loosened slightly.

"I never put much faith in that gesture." Voldemort said in a completive way. Harry shook his head like an animal, his tongue stuck out as he made and "ergh!" sound. "Honestly, if you had just swallowed straight away it wouldn't have been so bad!" Voldemort rebuked, his hand suddenly tightened again and pulled his head back tighter until his neck was completely bared. There was the sound of metal slicing through the air in the silence. And there was a sudden pain in his gullet, it felt like something was lodged in it. It hurt to swallow and Harry let out a shaky shocked whine, as he felt the weight drag upon the wound. He jumped out of his seat in shock.

There was a knife sticking out from his throat, he could see the hilt from the corner of his vision. He barely hesitated, even though he knew the cost of doing so, he reached with shaking hands and pulled the very small blade out, groaning with the pain of it pulling on the tissue. He let it drop to the ground as soon as it was free from his neck.

He felt blood drop down from the open wound, a heavy yet thin stream of it staining the collar of his shirt. However when he reached to the wound and pulled away the wet fingers, he discovered them to be coated in mud.

"Mudblood..." He whispered he looked at them in abject horror. He couldn't see a thing as the dark room began to spin, the sparse lighting making him nauseous with their continuous spinning.

The Dark Lord chuckled, and grabbed his biceps when his legs gave out in the shock. "Steady Harry." He all but purred. Harry's hands went to his throat as he pressed on the wound which now was bleeding freely.

"I'm..I'm... bleeding." He tried to staunch the flow but the mud slipped through his fingers fast and easily.

"Harry it is called purging." The Dark Lord informed, as he placed him down in a chair "Just sit down and let it finish."

"Nononono...NO!" Harry jumped up, but before being able to take a step forward the room suddenly spun around him once again, and he found himself taking hold off the offered hands and leaning on them. "I can't lose my Mother again – not any more of her." He bemoaned, and fell into the hold of the Dark Lord – a small part of him asked _why would you do that?_ Funnily enough it sounded like Rose.

"Shhh, Harry." It was spoken with no emotional affliction and there was enough warning in there that Harry knew he was not to continue his emotional charade. He was gently placed back in his chair. "I know that the purging can be uncomfortable, but try to relax. Talk to me, take your mind of it."

Harry breathed deeply closing his eyes to stop the room's movements bringing up his stomach. Finally when he was composed enough he opened his eyes, and saw the Dark Lord watching him bemusedly.

"About anything specific My Lord?" Harry asked shuddering as a drop of mud ran down his back, racing over every pronounced rib.

A pressed wad of cloth was placed on to the open wound by the Dark Lord. "How about we talk about you?" He asked as he whipped away the dirty smear, before looking at Harry with an all too innocent expression of curiosity and eyes that sparkled devilishly. He placed the cloth back, and let Harry wipe away the remains of the mud as it evacuated his jugular vein.

Harry's first thought was _shit!_

But he then got distracted by the mud that had escaped the cloth and had managed to run down his front this time. "Won't I bleed too much and... I dunno ...die?"

Voldemort laughed, a low almost gentle chuckle "You only have one generation of bad blood in you Harry, and that is only 50% of you. You might be light headed for a while, but you certainly will not die. I would not let that happen, after all you still have your uses."

_Comforting..._ Harry thought.

Harry went to open his mouth to speak but found that a yawn found its way out instead and his eyelids began to feel very heavy. Matilda bustled in, her stick thumping rapidly as she moved around the room with a speed that did not look possible for her to manage. Harry let his eyes shut, for they seemed to be a lot heavier than they had been a second before.

"Honestly," She clucked her tongue in an exasperated manner "Let him sleep Tom. Most do, you..."

The Dark Lord let out an irritated hiss at the wise woman, she merely let out a grumpy 'humpf' sound before speaking stonily. "Don't use your snake tongue on me boy!"

Harry briefly wondered why the Dark Lord had cut her off although the thought was fleeting as he found himself listening to them down a tunnel until they got too far away for him to hear.

"_Do it._" The terribly sweet voice in his mind whispered, its words sickly like syrup, Harry shook his head, no he didn't want to – but he also wanted that influence out of his mind. "_Do it._"

"No." Harry shook his head fiercely, his hand holding his wand shaking.

_Resistance to the imperious._ Voldemort smiled at that, it showed Harry's strength of character and will.

After Harry's reluctance to not kill anyone Voldemort had taken control and told him he would be, whether he wanted to or not. Harry was the sort to shoulder the blame anyhow, all he needed was the dark magic to run through him. It should help but if not, it should draw the boy closer to him in his guilt. The boy would see this act as a door closing, and think there was no way back – which was all the better for Voldemort. He knew he could cloud the boy's judgement but decided he wanted Harry to know and decide his own feelings towards it without being persuaded.

"_Do it._" He pushed again, forcefully, his concentration completely on the boy. Harry's eyes glazed over, his arm rose and stilled with confidence that was not his own and with a casual flick of his wrist, the green streak of violent light whipped from his wand with the whispered "Avada Kedavra."

The muggle twisted as the curse hit him, his body turning with the force as he landed on the cold floor. The only sound in the room was the slap of flesh on the concrete as they met each other brutally. The floating feeling in the back of Harry's mind abruptly vanished and the world swam into focus. His scar peaked in a stab of pain, spreading across his face, like tiny little sharp feet running across the skin lightly.

The terrible burn of his scar seemed to fade all of a sudden, like light being sucked in a void, the pain stopped. Harry fell on his knees, the shock of it removing the strength from his legs; he faintly touched the scar that was now only a blemish on his pale face. A delighted gasp let his mouth as he rubbed at the painless thing. It soon stopped when he saw what he had done.

The muggle lay on the floor motionless, his legs folded under him and his left arm draped over his stomach while the other was under his torso.

Harry couldn't feel anything – no remorse, no pity, no sympathy. The lesser of two evils he felt, he could have died more painfully, he could have...lived, Harry didn't have to do that. He could feel the guilt slowly building, his own selfish joy drowning in the sorrow and shame. He didn't deserve the lack of pain – he should suffer for what he did, he shouldn't be granted reprieve when he had taken human life.

"Well done Harry." The Dark Lord walked over to the body and looked down at the dead muggle in some sort of perverse pleasure.

"...you!" Harry suddenly spat "YOU! You... You made me do it!" He hissed scathingly, looking like a rabid animal from his hunched position on the floor.

"You could have resisted." The Dark Lord turned around, and looked at him as though he had expected the vicious outburst of suppressed emotional turmoil.

"No – you made me! I ... you bloody MONSTER!" Harry leapt to his feet, his face contorted into a hideous gargoyle as he tried to physically attack the Dark Lord.

He never made it. He fell to the floor agony exploding in his veins, his head smacked loudly on the concrete as his back arched as he screamed at the agony. His hands formed fists as he contorted into odd angles in the pain. Then it stopped – though it must have been seconds it felt like hours. He slumped to the floor, panting and feeling like energy had been sucked out of him.

Voldemort loomed over him, an ugly sneer on his handsome face. "Do not test boundaries you do not have Harry." He spoke slowly, as though Harry was a simpleton – not just stubborn. "I have shown you extreme leniency – I do not look favourably upon you spitting on that honour." He summoned Harry's wand and pocketed it along with his own. He went back over to the muggle's corpse.

"Go to Severus – you look like you need a calming draft." He ran his eyes over Harry's form "Go. Dismissed."

"Thank you, My Lord." He spoke softly, although he glared at the man's back, and pushed himself up and half staggered out of the room.

Snape handed a warm cup of tea to the shaking boy along with vial of calming potion. He felt no positive emotion to the boy – in fact he felt extremely negative towards him but if only to honour his feelings for Lily he took a neutral stance regarding her child.

"Drink up Potter." He said, watching as the young man stared blankly at the wall, his hands gripping the material of his trousers tightly as he trembled. He started when Severus spoke, but nodded and emptied the vial down his throat before wrapping his hands around the cup full the warm beverage. His trembling stopped shortly after, however he still remained fixated on the far wall.

"Potter, I do not claim to know the Dark Lord's reasons and it's not my place to say I can presume what they were, but you might not have to do it again. Even if you do... it does get easier." He briefly put his hand over Harry's forearm, before moving away to start a potion. It hurt to see Lily's eyes so tortured, so he found the most complex potion he could to remove himself from those green orbs of misery.

Harry had taken to walking through the corridors in his spare time, as he found the small amount of free time too long and in abundance. He couldn't bear to look out at the muggle world, smouldering and decaying nor could he look at the beautiful busy, yet dark world that the wizard and witches bustled around in. Both sides of the great fortress were under a heavy shadow, one magic folk seemed comfortable under whilst muggles feared it and felt repressed. He hated and loved his life under the Dark Lord's thumb, though the man seemed to have taken Harry under his wing and had a lot of patience with him, he couldn't not hate the fact that he was going down a road he didn't necessarily want to go down. He avoided going down the narrow staircase to his right, with poorly crafted stairs that sloped both left and right, often bowed both up and down which led to the muggle confinements, where Rose stayed in cold metal rooms with metal beds if they were lucky. It was however the hurried many footsteps coming up the steps that made Harry pause at the top of the descending steps. He couldn't see a thing down there as the torch brackets were empty. He stood there listening as the people came closer. The light that entered through the roughly shaped doorframe shed light on the first few steps and a person entered the light, a smile came unbidden to Harry's face.

"Rose!" He stage whispered in delight before flinging himself at her, hugging her tightly.

"Harry!" She replied into his shoulder as she hugged him tightly back. "Oh I'm so glad to see you!" She leant back and cupped his face and looked him over. "You look so well! I'm so happy you're alright!" She gushed, smiling widely, tears spilling through the creases around her eyes.

He just smiled happily at her, and clutched her hands unable to express his joy. A polite cough came from a large figure behind Rose. A large blush spread across Rose's cheeks, and she turned and grabbed the arm of the man behind her. "Harry – this Jim." She gestured between the two of them awkwardly.

"Pleasure I'm sure." Jim said sharply and briskly shook Harry's hand, but dropped it quickly as though it burned him. "Rose... we don't have time for this – I'm sorry, you know I am – but we need to move _now!_" He and another man walked up the last few stairs and into the corridor.

"Oh Harry! We... we're going! Come on! Come with us! We can go home!" She tugged excitedly at his hand, her smiling becoming bigger again and swapping her weight from foot to foot as she balanced on the balls of her feet. Harry, instantly felt himself torn – he realised that he wanted to stay, he felt at home in this world...safe and wanted. The muggles feared him because of who he was born as, because of what ran through his veins. The torment on his face was apparent because as Rose looked again at him she stopped shuffling and stilled, her movements almost comical in the way they slowed to a stop.

"Harry?" The smile slipped of Rose's face, as realisation seemed to set in.

"I'm...sorry, Rose...I can't...I just can't! I'm...accepted here, in... a way that I can't be in the muggle world. People hate your kind here, like they hate me out there."

Outrage crossed her face "They don't bloody well matter!" Her hand tightened brutally on his "All that matters is what I think!"

He ripped his hands from hers and stood as though he was bracing himself for something, before anger burst out of his mouth in hurried words.

"No – it does! You won't be around forever! You fight so much it could be days maybe even weeks, and I'm...I'm a wizard! Wizards live for so much longer than muggles – years and years I will outlive you – and I will be alone without you! That isn't fair! I want to stay with my own kind! I love you Rose, like the sister I never had... but we are so different – from different worlds and the only connection we have to each world is each other! It's not fair to ask either of us to sacrifice our own for each other, because it's just wrong to leave one another on our own... and I'm sorry but I'm staying here." He looked at her pleadingly, begging her to understand.

"What has he done too you?" She whispered suddenly, as though she was winded. "Where is my Harry? What... who... Harry?" She looked at him with those pained blue eyes, questioning him with her trembling jaw and hands that held the air in front of her like it were him.

"I'm NOT your Harry!" His hissed savagely, before he slapped a hand to his mouth rapidly deflating. "I...I didn't mean that." He said in a void tone, "I don't know where that came from... I don't know anything anymore..."

Rose looked at him, her lips pursed together and she stood stiffly, her eyes so cold in a flawless face of ice. Then she thawed and slumped nodding her head tiredly as though she knew it had been coming, the eventual flight from the nest, and the longing to be with his own – like she so wanted to be at that moment. So finally, composing herself she told Harry something his mother didn't have the chance to.

"When you get the chance go to the cottage – under your mother's bed – there's a floor board... a loose one, just don't tell anyone...only you can know. There is stuff you will want." She looked unbearably sad for a moment, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a chain with a couple of rings on it; she placed the chain in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it forming a solid fist. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. She wrapped her spare hand around her gullet and swallowed a couple of times, her eyes flooded with large tears and she patted her throat as she attempted to force some words out. "Please...please...stay...safe...pl-please Harry." The tears ran down her face and she took a heavy breath, the sound of it painful and just bobbed her head at him.

"If you go down this corridor and down the stairs, third door on your left it will take you to a corridor, if you go down the corridor right to the end, there is a doorway to the muggle side of the wall. There aren't guards at this time of night – normally they round the muggle children up if they are out." Harry whispered pointing down the way he been about to travel.

Rose smiled shakily and looked at her watch. "We have two hours boys before our doors lock and people start to wonder where we are." The two men nodded and started to set off down the shadowed hall.

She cupped Harry's face, asking silently for his permission – if he wished she would go back to her cell and stay there as Harry was all she had, and she didn't mind so much, she had less to lose. Harry he nodded to go – as he didn't want her to suffer, she patted his cheek and smiled painfully before letting go and running down the corridor silently after the other two shadows. He fell back against the wall, his skin erupting in goose bumps at the chill seeping into him from the wall. He breathed out slowly and deeply, trying to compose himself and still his treacherous shaking hands. He looked at the warm chain from Rose's pocket and saw his mother and father's wedding rings on the solid gold chain; he clasped it gratefully to his chest where his pounding heart could be felt and decided to head back to his room the need for a walk suddenly gone.

Bellatrix cowered on the floor, shuddering at the feeling of her master's power angrily swooping around in the room.

"M..m..master... please!" She whispered, her back curving into a hunch, water and saliva bubbling in her mouth as she wrung her hands together.  
"Three. Three muggles have _somehow_ escaped my fortress – the first time in eighteen years – and also the first time I leave you in charge of the filthy beasts!" The Dark Lord spat, his upper lip curling viciously, as he snarled at her. His fingers tightening on the arm rests of his magnificent throne.

"I'm sorry My Lord!" She wailed, sobbing raggedly into her petite hands. "I came to their rooms last of the round up... I...I never thought anyone! Anyone..." She gathered her breath, drawing it in sharply. "Never thought...anyone would...disobey you..anyone..My Lord! I beg you Master! Pl-please I just ...presumed ..I –I was too relaxed in my duty! Master..." She clawed at his robes, pressing her face on to the finely made garment; she peppered kisses along the hem, sobbing her hot wet plentiful tears on to his bare feet, her long thick hair drying it as she moved along the hem. Such a mockery of Jesus and Mary, he thought – but he would rise were Christ had not, he would not die for the faults of others...they deserved to suffer.

"Oh Bella..." He cooed at her and stood from his throne. She stopped instantly a sob cutting midway through its vocal pronouncement. She sat back on the bottom halves of her legs, her shoulders heaving with the force of her tears. He bent down to her, "Bella, most faithful... look at me..." He spoke softly to her, in a kingly manner, with a gentleness only reserved for her. She blinked up at him through fat tears. "My Bella, my beautiful Bella – I am your Lord, your most forgiving Lord." He stroked back the hair of her face, the thick curls falling stunningly over her tragic posture. "You have faulted me so little, how can I not be merciful?" He smirked at her, and with his thumb he caught one of her tears as it ran down her porcelain cheek. "Go Bella, go clean yourself up, do not return to me for three days else I might be tempted to not be so kind. I do not want to do that to my favourite." He whispered, he grabbed her left arm, and slowly exposed her dark mark, he brought it to his mouth and gently placed a lingering kiss to the crown of the skull. A moan of gratitude escaped her throat "Thank you Master." She said and brought her arm to her mouth and held it against her lips where his mouth had touched it and held it there rocking with her eyes shut.

"Go Bella – I will summon you when I need you." He touched her back, between her shoulder blades, his finger lightly skimming the flesh. She grabbed the hand with no hesitation.

Her eyes were smudged with black blotches of her makeup, and she grasped at his hand. "Thank you" She spoke breathlessly and gratefully, her eyes watering with gratitude as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "Thank you Master!" She kissed it, trickles of water running down her cheeks as she sniffled and kissed his hand again before scrambling to her feet and leaving the throne room.

He idly turned one of the thick pages in his book, the words sitting on the page contentedly whilst making no sense to Harry, he watched the moving pictures blankly as he tried to compose his scattered thoughts. He turned his focus back to the pages and tried to read the opening paragraph however the book slipped through his fingers and landed heavily on the floor, the spine creasing as it was sprained when the book landed on the wood, the pages spread mercilessly. He screamed. The Dark Mark burned angrily, sharp burning spikes of concentrated anger shot through his body with each pulse of his heart. He cradled the limb, his hand curled over the mark but unable to touch it as it would hurt the burn more. He leant forward curling himself into a ball as he groaned and chocked on the noises of his pain. He heard his body hit the floor with a loud thump, but he shut his eyes trying to control himself try to stop the searing agony.

He didn't hear the door open, but he felt the dark intoxicating presence of the Dark Lord hovering over him, he could feel the dark magic scraping at his skin, happy while he tried not to scream.

"_Harry..._" Voldemort purred as he crouched next to Harry's prone form. He watched Harry's eyes that were screwed shut, and the pursed lips pressed tightly to stop vocalising the pain. "_Oh Harry... I know you know what I am here about._" He tapped the boy's cheek with the tip of his wand. He leant down to his ear, as the boy wouldn't be able to get up. "_Where is she?_" He whispered.

A low pained groan emerged from the boy's throat, as his hand became a gnarled claw over the dark mark.

"_...Please...please...stop it...please..._" The boy forced out, his knuckles snow white on his left hand. "_PLEASE?_" He grabbed at the Dark Lord's robes. "_...I will...tell you...anything!...just... PLEASE!_"

Voldemort smiled indulgently, and unhooked the boy's hands as he reduced the pain in the mark. Harry slumped on the floor, shuddering and gasping in relief.

"_Th...thank you...My Lord._" Harry sighed, the words no more than an escaped sigh. He lay on his side, his shoulders hunched inwards covered in a sheen of sweat. Voldemort pushed gently on his shoulder until Harry flopped on to his back, his chest heaving in his laboured breathing.

"_Now Harry, tell me what you promised you would. Where did the muggle go?_" He asked.

"_I don't know where she went afterwards, but she left through the east corridor – where the guards don't normally go, she will have gone back to London. To find other muggles._" He spoke slowly, his left arm lying uselessly but his side. "_I swear, I...swear My Lord, that's all I know._"

The Dark lord scowled at the lack of information provided but could see that it was all Harry knew – a carefully constructed plan formulated by both of them so that she couldn't be found. He ran a hand through Harry's sweaty locks "_See Harry – by telling me the truth you do not have to feel pain._" Now if he could only get the boy to volunteer information as it happened...

He picked up the heavy book of the floor and placed it carefully on the coffee table. He looked back at the boy lying on the floor and left, the door slamming shut with the force of his magic and anger.

Muggles, wizards, vampires – humans and humanoids in general were pack creatures. They instantly formed groups, they needed social interaction to survive. Some need to be led whilst others want to lead and even though sometimes leadership can be handed over graciously it sometimes ended in vicious fights to the death. Needless to say Rose found her way to fellow muggles shortly after escaping with two others. The first response was hostile – in a way most muggles had formed their 'packs' by now and had become respectfully cautious of each other. They were almost shot at when the snakes on their arms were spotted, until with persuasion they understood the need to remove them.

"They don't know we have left yet – the moment they do, these will turn on us." Rose said as she strapped down her arm to the metallic arm of a dentist chair. "Plus attempts to remove the snake by cutting will cause it to poison us anyway." She tightened the straps, giving each one a firm tug as it pulled the flesh around it a ghastly pale shade, whilst the rest of it became a pale red. She single handily attached a tourniquet to her upper arm above the crook of her elbow. "Morphine?" She asked irritably.

The young man blinked blankly before nodding uncertainly and going to a cabinet on the far wall. "Uh.. how much do you want?" He asked.

"Just a whole syringe." She muttered looking at the snake that had gone eerily still. She was presented with the syringe, she took it from him with haste and twirled the thing in her hand.

She tapped her arm slightly, the blue vein rising under her pale thin skin. She gave herself the injection emptying the whole syringe forcefully and hissing as it stung her insides with the force and the chill of it. Rose didn't wait for the medication to work – after all there wasn't enough time. She braced herself and examined the knife, the sharp point catching the light, before she lowered it to the crook of her arm.

She didn't scream, but through an hour of sweat, blood and tears, finally the arm was severed from her body. The bone was filed down to a smooth rounded edge, the wound rinsed in sterile distilled water and the flap of skin she had left was folded over. When she was given a needle and thread she started to tourniquet her blood vessels, veins and arteries before sewing the flap of skin over the gaping wound.

She looked at the arm that once was hers as the snake suddenly reared to life and savagely attacked it, tearing at it and injecting venom into it. The bites started to swell with the poison in them. The snake's work being done it dissolved into ash around the now blue and purple limb.

Rose couldn't feel a thing, and she felt rather light headed, but she managed to slur a question about the other two's health, and found out that one had managed to survive – but was touch and go with shock, but the younger of the two hadn't be separated in time from the snake and died. She noticed a stranger tightly binding her stump with bandages dipped in carbolic acid. Her eyes were closing and she felt sleepy and for once she decided that she had to rest and simply trust those around her.

Five days later –

Harry had been apparated by an agitated Dark Lord, whom had stormed into his room and grabbed him roughly by his arm, and taken to a muggle settlement in Dover where fifty other death eaters were finishing up their hunting, before hearing an angered "Say your goodbye to you muggle Potter – I will give you five minutes." The Dark Lord pushed him towards a figure sitting on a large rock on the edge of a cliff. He heard Bellatrix laugh loudly as she tugged a muggle by a whip around its neck, and the screams from the other prisoners blending it with the horrid laughs of their captors. It was all lost to Harry who just stared at the figure highlighted by the setting sun.

He approached slowly and cautiously until he could see the girl clearly. "Rose." He said, and started to run as fast as he could towards her. She looked up, hearing his heavy footfalls and smiled dazzlingly. She stood and turned to him, Harry stopped in shock tripping when he saw what had happened to her.

He looked at her arm – at least what was left of it in absolute horror, a stump with a purple swollen and poorly sewn together end where her elbow joint used to be was now what she had.

"We couldn't get the snake off without killing me – so I just took the arm." She said as she looked at it as well, a sad frown morphing her face. "It was the only way we could get away – hurt like hell." She laughed ruefully, her right hand going to scratch her arm, but she stopped before she reached it. "Nearly bled to death!" She said instead with false brightness. A slightly hysterical giggle jumped out her throat, and her eyes darted about flightily. "Infection has already set in – that old bastard is doing me a favour- a long painful death awaits me if he doesn't kill me... Anything you wanna say? Harry? Last chance."

Harry looked down and let out a long painful groan, needing to get it off his chest. "I have something to say Rose – and what you say really matters to me. No...not what you say – what you really feel." He grasped her hand, she bit her lip and smiled encouragingly.

"Rose... I, I killed a muggle...I just killed him." He suddenly cried out, frustration burning under his skin. "Oh God! Rose – I dunno if I can cope." He ground his teeth together in guilt and frustration. "It was his face, an...and the way he fell, and jesus... he was just so still..."

Rose smiled and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and then she pulled out a gun, Harry felt ever so slightly bemused at how she still had a gun on her person, but listened to what Rose said.

"Harry, it does not matter what I think about what you have done... I do not mind – how can I? I have killed more than you – too many. What you need to consider is if _you_ can live with what you have done?" Rose, placed her gun in Harry's palm and carefully wrapped his fingers around it. Slowly she placed his finger on the trigger, before pulling it up to his head and placing it to his skull.

"If you cannot live with it – pull the trigger Harry." She whispered, her tone was placating and soothing. "If you feel such guilt at what you have done that your will to exist has dissipated then you will not even hesitate to do it. I think you may feel guilty now but it will get better, easier and you will deal with it – you won't want to die."

Her warm hand moved away and when the support she provided left too his arm fell and the gun dropped heavily to the ground slipping through his loose fingers, it landed with a _thunk_ and billows of dust floated upwards from the dry barren land. A warm burst of air whipped through the landscape and blew the dust to the east, Rose watched it go, before kicking the gun away in a sudden violent burst of energy, it flew through the air before disappearing of the verge. She turned back to Harry, looking radiant with the setting sun behind her, making her brown hair glow much like Lily's had.

She smiled heartily causing many lines to appear across her skin and the small laughter lines that had formed around her eyes many years ago reformed upon her face, and she looked fantastic the weight that had slowed her down for years suddenly seemed to have been kicked away with the gun. She threw up her arm and spun before skipping over to him landing inches from his toes. "That's my little survivor." She whispered and hugged him and although he was several inches taller he felt like a child in her embrace. He rested his head on the crown of hers. "I'm sorry."

She rubbed his back in small circles "You don't need to be." Was the muffled response the vibrated through his chest, right to his heart and he felt the icy chill that had coiled around it since the incident melt, leaving a warm feeling of love and _belonging_ in its place.

Of course that was ruined by the arrival of the Dark Lord, although there was no sound to accompany his arrival, the air around him seemed to vibrate and ripple announcing his approaching presence.

A silent gasp escaped Harry, his hand automatically rising towards his scar, the slight feeling of pressure still underneath it when anger like this was at a peak. Rose looked concerned and scared, a large crease on her forehead forming.

"Har..." She began, but was immediately cut of when a giant streak of green struck her forcefully in the chest, she staggered back a step, as her ribs bent inwards and shattered, her eyes already glassy and dead, before her body fell.

It happened slowly at first, her knees bending as her body landed jarringly on them, her body swayed backwards like the capsizing of a ship, her expression still set in the manner of beginning to speak when it happened.

Head first she toppled over the verge, her booted feet following her in an almost sedated lazy manner, as they flipped in the air, the laces waving like streamers in the warm summer late night breeze. Harry didn't seem to breathe for that moment, his eyes fixed where she had been seconds before, and looking at the footprints in the dusty dirt that were long and disjointed as her feet had dragged with her dead body.

Harry ceased to exist for that second, nothing happened, nothing moved and nothing else mattered, except for the fact that he was completely alone now. He was on his knees, the unregistered movement only acknowledged by the sudden changed in the height of the horizon. He crawled to the edge and peered down, he could see her distantly, her body bent in an unnatural angle and her hair splayed out like a tarnished halo around her head.

But... he didn't feel anything, not _one_ thing, he felt so so hollow inside, however that was not it – he didn't mourn Rose at all – not in the slightest – they had been close due to the circumstances that they had been forced to live in. When he truly thought about it he would have never been close to Rose at all, Rose... was not nice, not really but she could do the right thing. The more Harry thought about he realised how different they were – chalk and cheese so to speak.

He sat back on his heels, gazing emptily at everything, until his focus distorted, he could feel the Dark Lord's presence behind him, demanding his attention. He turned and faced him, swivelling on his knees whilst simultaneously getting to his feet.

He watched the man coldly, eyes adverted to the man's knees – if looks could kill the Dark Lord's kneecaps would have been shattered and ground into fine dust.

The dark arts had done this to him – he could feel it in his bones. There was nothing but ash where a light used to be, he felt withered, old and burnt. He felt tired and lost, the only one to follow now was the Dark Lord, who stood watching him, arms crossed against his chest, and placing the majority of his weight on his left leg.

When Harry finally looked up at him, his dull green eyes meeting the bright red ones, and he nodded acceptance, he took the offered hand and braced himself for apparition – he didn't look back at the scuffle in the dirt. The only thought that swamped and plagued his mind was _what was she going to say to me?_

The death eaters ran through the corn fields, allowing their opponents to chase them, letting them have their short illusion. The team formed a circle, all of them back to back, and they waited for the enemy to catch up. Their white masks grinning like skulls as the moon shone on them.

The five death eaters were surrounded by the strangled remains of the Order of the Phoenix. They had allowed themselves to be herded into it.

They started to walk towards each of their prey, approaching one each and heading to them at an angle. Suddenly they each spun and attacked the person to their right, that opponent having their back towards that particular death eater, the light fell within one swoop. No killing curses were used, bindings wrapped around each starved body, wands fell from brittle dirty fingers and dull thuds echoed their loss of balance.

They had caught the last of the Order of the Phoenix, a couple of Weasleys, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and of course..._Dumbledore._

**A/N - Review please? I am going to sound terrible – but I want reviews, because they actually act like an engine for my story – the more I get the quicker and more I write. **

**For my first chapter I got 26 reviews and for the last 9 :( It is gutting to start off so well and not having a continuity of it. So give me your opinion in a review– it does mean a lot to me.**

**So sorry, if you want me to move faster the best way to encourage me to actually write, and I sound like a bitch, but I want reviews – even if it's one word – I want that one word! :L **

**Right – you must be thinking where the hell have you been? I'm terribly sorry – but life has just taken over. On a positive note – I did really well on my GCSE's (1 A*, 7 As, 6 Bs and 1 C) and am now going to college doing my A-levels :D**

**So – unfortunately everything takes a backseat to them, but I'm working really hard on this. It will not be forgotten.**

**I'm hoping your quick enough to realise whom I'm on about, if you're thinking but you said Dumbledore is dead – then think **_**which **_**Dumbledore I might mean. :D **

**Thank you all my reviewers – you make me so happy every time I see them, so thank you all so much – and I hope this chapter reaches your expectations.**

**P.S. - Sorry - fanfiction keeps editing out my page breakers : :L  
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**All the best, till the next time :~)**


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